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PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 







Persephone of Eleusis 

A Romance of Ancient Greece 


by 

CLARE WINGER HARRIS 




1923 

THE STRATFORD COMPANY, Publishers 

Boston, Massachusetts 















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Copyright, 1923 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers 
Boston, Mass. 



©ClACOOOiS 


The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 





Preface 


In this tale of Greece in the fifth centnry B. C., 
fact and fiction are so closely intervolved that 
a detailed explanation of their respective bound¬ 
aries would be both tedious and superfluous. 
Suffice it to say that I have with reluctance 

departed from history only when the narration 
of the personal affairs of the characters made 

it necessary to do so. The difficulty of accurate 
adherence to historical facts seems insuperable. 

C. W. H. 









Contents 


Chapter Page 

I At the Hot Gates.1 

II “Remember the Athenians” . . . .10 

III The Defense on the Acropolis . . . .17 

IV The Miracle of Salamis.28 

V The Traitor of Thermopylag . . . .40 

VI Athena Speaks Through the Olive-Branch . 46 

VII The Banquet of Attaginus . . . .51 

VIII Masistius’ Message to Zopyrus . . .60 

IX The Rescue of Ladice.70 

X A Venture at the Eve of Battle . • . .80 

XI A Hero of Plataea.86 

XH The Prophet at Delphi.93 

• XIII The House of Pasicles.101 

XIV Beyond the Dipylon Gate .... Ill 

XV What Happened at the Theatre of Dionysus . 121 

XVI The Celebration of the Mysteries . . . 128 

XVII Persephone.136 

XVHI Agne’s Advice.142 

XIX Ephialtes’ Plot.* . 147 

XX The Ward of Themistosles .... 155 
XXI In the Shadow of the Acropolis . . . 162 

XXII A Letter from Sicily.167 

XXHI The Festivities at Naxos.174 

XXIV Dionysus and Ariadne.180 

XXV A Revelation.187 

XXVI The Home of Aeschylus.194 

XXVII The Allied Fleet Sails.201 

XXVIII The Hand of Fate.209 

XXIX After Twenty Years.216 










“What have I to do vdth the heroes or the monuments 
of ancient times? With times which never can return, and 
heroes, whose form of life was different from all that 
the present condition of mankind requires or allows? . ♦ . . 
At least we compare our own with former times, and either 
rejoice at our improvements, or, what is the first motion 
towards good, discover our defects/’ 

Samuel Johnson in “Rasselas ” 



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CHAPTEE I. 
At the Hot Gates. 


^‘In gay hostility and barbarous pride, 

With half mankind embattled at his side, 

Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey. 

And starves exhausted regions in his way/’ 

Samuel Johnson. 

T he reddening glow of an evening sun was shed 
upon the little town of Anthela in Locris as 
Zopyrus, a young Persian officer in the army of 
Xerxes passed quickly from the shadows of the temple 
to Demeter into the narrow street. In his general bear¬ 
ing and physique he was truly a Persian; large of 
frame, broad of shoulders, with a proportionally small 
but well poised head. But the tight clusters of blond 
curls, clear blue eyes and sensitiveness of mouth were 
not distinguishing traits of Persian parentage. There 
was a seriousness in his expression far in advance of 
his years which may have numbered four and twenty. 

As he walked with swinging gait toward the Per¬ 
sian encampment, he turned his gaze in the direction 
of the ridge of Oeta whose northern slope silhouetted 
against the ruddy glow of an evening sky, approached 
the Malaic gulf. At any other period in his life the 
beauty of his surroundings would have called forth his 
admiration, but the scenes of the past two days which 

[G 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


had been here enacted, had completely quelled the nat¬ 
ural agsthetic tendencies of his soul. Here he had 
been a witness to the slaughter of Persian and Greek; 
he in whose veins flowed the blood of both peoples. 

As he neared the encampment another officer clad 
in the familiar close-fitting leathern tunic of the Per¬ 
sian army hailed him. He was a giant in stature, a 
man born to command. It was he who had charge of 
the cavalry. Zopyrus recognized him at once. 

^‘Ho, Masistius! Does this beautiful June even¬ 
ing summon you forth too ? Truly a fair land is Hellas. 
Amid such surroundings as these the annals of Persia 
had been different!” 

By this time darkness had descended and as 

Masistius surveyed the landscape an exclamation of 

spontaneous admiration burst from his lips, soldier 

though he was and unused to the gentler phases of 

life. Oeta cast its purple shadows across the Malaic 

gulf, whose waters now reflected countless stars, and 

in the shrubbery about the two soldiers were heard the 

mournful notes of the little owls, so common in this 

strange land. Occasionally the call of birds of prey 

grated on their ears and brought to their minds the 

loathsome fact that amidst all this entrancing lovli- 

ness of nature, death had come to hundreds of their 

countrvmen and allies. 

*/ 

^‘Friend Zopyrus, although I am a soldier through 
and through, I am not blind to the beauties of this 
land of Greece, but sterner things brought me out 
tonight. I came to summon you to the presence of the 
king who wishes to speak with you. Artabazus and 
I were in the royal tent talking over the plans of the 

[ 2 ] 


AT THE HOT GATES 


morrow when Xerxes suddenly commanded a slave to 
summon you to his presence. The order took both 
Artabazus and myself quite by surprise, for we have 
not been blind to the fact that Xerxes has avoided you 
since the very beginning of this campaign. Why he 
should do so, I cannot imagine. It has always seemed 
to me that the king has quite overlooked the physical 
prowess and ability of his cousin Zopyrus.^’ 

Zopyrus shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘True my 
father was Artaphernes, satrap of Sardis and brother 
of Darius Hystaspis, but you must remember my 
mother was only a Greek from Miletus, although her 
parents were both Athenians of noble blood. 

“But you can subdue the Greek within you, for 
surely the influence of^ your royal father is the 
stronger,’’ said Masistius. 

Zopyrus turned his gaze to the be jeweled vault of 
the heaven. A lie is an unpardonable sin to a Persian, 
and to that extent Zopyrus displayed his paternal 
heritage, but there rose before his eyes the vision of 
a beautiful woman with classic features whose last 
words to him before her death had been: “Zopyrus, 
it is my earnest desire that sometime you go to Greece, 
to Athens, and there acquire some of the culture of 
that freedom-loving people in that fair land. Here in 
Persia you will always be the victim of oriental 
despotism.” As he grew older Zopyrus realized that 
his mother’s words and the past influence of her life 
had been instrumental in causing him to hate not only 
the vain-glorious idolatry of the Persian court, but 
the weakness, licentiousness and tyranny of the Per¬ 
sian king. Zopyrus looked again at his companion. 

[ 3 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


will go at once to Xerxes,’^ he said, completely 
ignoring the other’s remark. 

The tent of Xerxes was in the center of the en¬ 
campment to insure its protection in case of an un¬ 
expected attack from the enemy. An Ethiopion slave 
parted the hanging folds as Zopyrus approached and 
held them as he passed into the interior. Seated upon 
a throne covered with richly woven tapestry and sur¬ 
rounded by slaves and courtiers sat the monarch of 
Persia. 

Zopyrus never knew in what mood he would find 
his royal cousin. At times the king was most amicably 
inclined toward his subjects, upon which occasions hej 
lavished upon them generous gifts; at others, the puni¬ 
tive aspect of his authority was made evident, and his 
dependents were punished out of all due proportion 
to their offenses. 

Xerxes’ eyes followed the noble figure of his 
cousin with impatient tolerance as the latter bowed 
and performed the customary greetings. 

“Where were you just previous to your meeting 
with Masistius!” questioned the king abruptly. 

“In the town of Anthela,” was the reply. 

“Is there not a temple to that pagan goddess. 
Demeter, there?” 

“I believe so.” 

“Well stay away from such temples except for 
the purpose of destroying them. By the way, Sikin- 
nus,” he called, summoning a slave, “take that rascal, 
Tyrastiadas, who tried to desert today and give him 
forty lashes.” 


[ 4 ] 


AT THE HOT GATES 


Xerxes turned again toward the son of Arta- 
phernes whose splendid physique and heroic mein 
summoned his reluctant admiration. Here he realized 
were unlimited possibilities for his army, for he sin¬ 
cerely believed Zopyrus to be a braver man than Mar- 
donius or Artabazus, though he was many years their 
junior; then too he had respect for the independent 
air of this cousin who did not dog his footsteps with 
flattering remarks and hints for the promise of favors 
at the close of the war. So it was with a more defer¬ 
ential air that the politic Xerxes addressed his next 
remarks to his cousin. 

^‘Zopyrus, you are too big a man to be in com¬ 
mand of only one hundred soldiers. At your age your 
half-brother, Artaphernes, together with Datis, led the 
expedition which resulted in the battle of Marathon. 
If at the close of this battle with the Greeks in this 
pass you prove your valor, you shall be placed in 
command of one thousand men. Also I will allow you 
to choose among the fairest maidens of the kingdom 
for a wife, and for exceptional bravery I will give 
you a satrapy. All eyes were turned to Zopyrus 
who acknowledged his king^s favor with a slight bow. 

bear in mind,’^ continued Xerxes, ^Hhat your 
mother was a Greek, though she was a lawful wife of 
your father. It is this taint of blood that has stood in 
the way of previous honors, but with courage such as 
becomes the son of a noble Persian you may be able 
to make me forget completely the plebeian maternal 
blood. 

Anger such as had never before been experienced 
by Zopyrus surged within him at this insult to his 

[ 5 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


mother memory, but he held it in subjection, merely 
bowing stoically before the ruler. 

Xerxes had one dominating motive in attempting 
to win Zopyrus ’ fidelity. At the beginning of the cam¬ 
paign he had secretly wished to cause his cousin’s 
death because he had feared him, but the latter’s 
advice when consulted on matters of doubt, forced him 
to the opinion that Zopyrus might become quite an 
asset to the Persian army if properly handled. That 
he, Xerxes, had failed in this he did not know. 

At this moment the slave who stood at the en¬ 
trance to the royal tent approached his master with 
these words: 

‘‘Most noble king, a Greek soldier waits without 
and would have word with you alone.” 

“Bid him enter,” was the monarch’s response. 

The courtiers quickly withdrew by a rear exit, 
Zopyrus passing out last. Moved by a sudden impulse 
and unnoticed, he quickly and silently re-entered the 
tent and stood a few feet behind the throne in the 
shadows. The canvas at the front entrance parted 
admitting the figure of a Greek soldier. He had re¬ 
moved his helmet and left his shield and javelin with¬ 
out in respect to the Persian monarch. Armed only 
with his short sword and wearing the characteristic 
scaled cuirass and leather greaves of Greek military 
dress he presented an interesting sight to both Per¬ 
sians. His head was uncovered, displaying the artistic 
hair-dress worn by the young men of Athens and 
Sparta. Long thick braids were crossed at the back 
of his shapely head and fastened together with a jew¬ 
eled pin in front. From beneath the braids his brown 

[^1 


AT THE HOT GATES 


hair lay in soft waves around his temples. His face 
was fair almost a degree of etfeminacy and his figure 
of average height indicated graceful outlines even 
though concealed by the armour he wore. He ad¬ 
dressed the king: 

‘^0 Xerxes, king of the Medes and Persians and 
would-be conqueror of the world, I come to you with 
a message of greatest importance! For two days your 
brave soldiers have met defeat at the hands of the 
Greeks at the entrance to the pass of Thermopylae. Now 
the Greeks are so inferior in number, owing to the 
celebration of certain religious festivities which are 
soon due to come to an end, that right now is the time 
to strike, but not in the method which you have up 
till the present employed, when only a handful of men 
from each side could meet and enter into personal 
combat. The Greeks are well trained and if they are 
to be vanquished, it must be by the superior forces of 
the enemy. ’ ’ 

The king with offended dignity clutched the arms 
of his throne and raised himself, crying out in angry 
tones: ^^Am I to have a Greek tell me that my army 
lacks the military discipline of the Greeks 1 ’ Here he 
rose with an exaggerated attempt at majesty, ^‘Behold, 
0 Greek, Zeus himself in the form of an earthly mon¬ 
arch come to lead the whole race of mankind to the 
destruction of Greece 

To Zopyrus^ amazement as he stood a silent and 
unobserved figure in the shadows, as well as to the 
amazement of Xerxes himself, the Greek did not 
tremble at the king^s words. An amused expression 

[ 7 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


not without disdain passed over his fearless counte¬ 
nance. Xerxes’ face became purple with rage. 

‘^Out of my sight grinning fool of a Greek,” he 
roared, ^‘before I have your tongue cut out for your 
insolence! ’ ’ 

Zopyrus stood rooted to the spot in horror, but the 
graceful unemotional figure of the Greek remained un¬ 
changed. To Zopyrus it seemed an eternity before the 
young man spoke, but in reality it was almost imme¬ 
diately. He drew nearer the throne by a couple of 
paces, and Zopyrus feared for his life in that prox¬ 
imity to the wrathful monarch. 

‘Hasten, 0 Xerxes, if you would succeed in over¬ 
whelming your foes you must attack them from behind, 
but this you can not do since you are unacquainted with 
this wild, impassable country. I am a native Malian 
and well acquainted with this locality. If you could 
make it worth my while, I could show you a mountain 
pass that would lead you to the rear of Leonidas ’ army 
unobserved.” 

AVhile the Greek was speaking Xerxes ’ expression 
gradually changed from malice to pleased attention: 
“And suppose, friend Greek, I do not permit you to 
leave unless you reveal to me this pass!” 

The Greek smiled. “It is impossible simply to 
tell of this secret way, for it is beset with many dan¬ 
gers, such as almost impenetrable growths of under¬ 
brush, impermeable morasses and almost inaccessible 
cliffs. A native guide is absolutely essential and 1 am 
that guide who will receive my pay before the journey 
commences.” 

The king nodded in affirmation and sank back quite 

[ 8 ] 


AT THE HOT GATES 


dazed from the effect of the interview. The Greek was 
still unmoved and continued: will lead your army 

tomorrow night, as it is safest to travel under cover 
of darkness. We shall probably reach the other side 
of the pass at a very favorable time of day, when the 
market-place of the town is filling. 1 will meet you 
here tomorrow at sunset in Persian uniform, and ex¬ 
cept to your most important commanders, I wish to 
remain unknown. Till then, 0 Zeus, farewell!’^ 

He passed quickly out of the bewildered kingly 
presence, and Zopyrus took advantage of this moment 
to make a hasty and unseen exit at the rear of the royal 
tent. 


[ 9 ] 


CHAPTER II. 

‘ ^ Remember the Athenians. ^ * 

^^Who at Thermopylse stood side by side, 

And fought together and together died, 

Under earth-barrows now are laid at rest, 

Their chance thrice glorious, and their fate thrice-blest. 

No tears for them, but memory’s loving gaze; 

For them no pity, but proud hymns of praise.” 

Simonides. 

L ike a great crawling serpent, the army of 
Xerxes, augmented by the cowardly Thessalians, 
wound its circuitous and perilous way from 
Trachis; first ascending the gorge of the river Asopus 
and the hill called Anopaea, then crossing the pitch- 
dark, oak-covered crest of Oeta. Its venemous head 
was the treasonable Greek, dressed as a Persian foot- 
soldier. Many were the woes of that nocturnal jour¬ 
ney! Soldiers tripping over fallen branches and en¬ 
tangled in the undergrowth were trampled to death. 
Some were pressed into the treacherous morass, but 
the malignant monster, heedless of this sloughing, 
crept on toward its goal which was the town of Alpeni 
at the east end of the pass. 

But the small army of the Greeks was not destined 
to suffer such a complete surprise as Xerxes had hoped, 
for the revengeful Tyrastiadas, limping painfully as a 
result of his forty lashes, had succeeded in deserting 

[ 10 ] 


“REMEMBER THE ATHENIANS” 


and had apprised Leonidas of the startling fact that 
the Persians were coming across the pass. The Spar¬ 
tan king sent a Phocian guard of one thousand men 
to prevent the enemy from crossing the summit of 
Oeta, but this guard was speedily overwhelmed by the 
Persians who were under the leadership of Hydarnes. 
The next morning shortly after sunrise, the Persian 
hordes descended upon the Greeks. The sun was re¬ 
flected with dazzling brilliancy from thousands of 
breast-plates, spears, shields and helmets, and upon 
the ears of the heroic sons of Hellas fell the deafening 
war-cry from myriads of throats. 

A sutfocating sensation seized Zopyrus as he be¬ 
held the mere handful of Greeks bravely awaiting cer¬ 
tain death at the hands of a pitiless foe, but to turn 
back was now impossible. Strange that he could in 
fancy so easily picture himself as one of that brave 
minority, awaiting inevitable death! To his own sor¬ 
row he had not infrequently lamented the faculty which 
he possessed of seeing the praiseworthy aspect of an 
enemy ^s view-point. It was this attribute of leniency 
toward the opinions of his fellow-men that was espe¬ 
cially irritating to the intolerant Xerxes. In the mind 
of the latter all men were divided into two great 
classes; subjects and enemies. To Zopyrus all men 
seemed friends unless by their own initiative they 
proved themselves otherwise. It was extremely pain¬ 
ful to him to see these brave Greeks meet this great 
crisis unflinchingly. It was humanly impossible for 
this mere handful of men to stem the tide of the on- 
rushing Persians. 

To us at this day and age it is apparent that these 

pi] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


men did not sacrifice their manhood in vain. The re¬ 
sult of any noble act is never lost. In some way and 
at some time it brings a result as satisfactory as that 
desired in the hearts of the original heroes themselves. 
Such a result was destined to come to Greece after the 
bones of Thermopylae’s warriors had long mingled with 
the dust. 

Zopyrus was swept on by the barbarian host. A 
shower of missiles diminished the number of Greeks 
and soon the enemy was upon them and the battle con¬ 
tinued with spear and sword. Zopyrus received a 
slight wound on the left shoulder, the Greek inflicting 
the injury snatching away his spear. Zopyrus quickly 
unsheathed his sword, pressing his opponent to closer 
combat as a better chance for self defense. The two 
fought long over the bodies of Persian and Greek who 
now lay in inevitable amity beside their once ruthless 
foe. At length the Greek who was little more than a 
boy, weakened perceptibly and in an unguarded mo¬ 
ment Zopyrus’ sword disappeared up to the hilt. As 
the lad fell his helmet rolled off revealing a counte¬ 
nance of incomparable beauty; deep-set eyes, brows 
that nearly met above a straight nose, refined mouth 
and a contour of cheek and chin that was flawless. All 
this was revealed to Zopyrus in a second’s time, but it 
left an indelible impression on his mind. As he pressed 
on he felt that the horrors of war were crazing him, 
and his soul cried out against the awful brutality of it. 

With the slaughter of the three hundred the gate¬ 
way to central Greece had now been forcibly opened 
and Xerxes in imitation of his father’s avenging 
words, cried out, ‘^Remember the Athenians.” A 

[ 12 ] 


'‘REMEMBER THE ATHENIANS” 

journey of about six days lay between the oriental 
despot and his ultimate goal, the city of Athens, so with 
prancing steeds, waving plumes, glittering arms and 
triumphant shouts, the Asiatic legions resumed their 
deleterious course. 

The morning of the third day found the army 
within sight of Mt. Parnassus. With rapt gaze Zopy- 
rus beheld the softest sculpture of clitf and peak against 
a cerulean sky. Upon yonder lofty summit dwelt the 
Muses, those daughters of Zeus who preside over the 
SBsthetic and intellectual aspirations of man. It seemed 
to Zopyrus that surely now but one Muse, Melpomene, 
occupied that pinnacle, and with mournful gaze beheld 
the invasion of this fairest of lands. 

In accordance with the order of Xerxes all faces 
were turned in the direction of Delphi, in spite of a 
report that the oracle of Delphi had prophesied that 
Apollo would protect his sanctuary. Through a gorge 
at the foot of Mt. Parnassus might Melpomene have 
seen the multitudes of Asiatic troops pursue their ne¬ 
farious journey. Suddenly peal after peal of thunder 
reverberated from the apparent calm of a mid-summer 
sky. Then great crags from the mountain were loosened 
and rolled down upon the army which fled in wild ter¬ 
ror, abandoning its attempt to plunder Delphi. So 
did Apollo protect his shrine! But fortune did not so 
favor the citizens of Thespiss and Platsea in Boeotia 
both of which were ravaged and those citizens who 
would not join the Persian forces were put to death. 

At length on the fifth day the army camped at 
night-fall outside of Athens. It was a beautiful in¬ 
tense dark blue Athenian night in which heaven’s vault 

[ 13 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


seemed to blaze with innumerable jewels. Zopyrus sat 
at the door of his tent deep in his own thoughts. An 
army during its marches and battles must think, talk 
and act as one being, and that one subservient to its 
leader, but who shall say in the stillness of evening 
each living entity which comprises that vast unit shall 
not have his individual dreams, and those thoughts 
which render him distinct from every other living be¬ 
ing? And Zopyrus as he sat in the darkness, thought 
of Athens and of his mother. What would she think 
if she knew he was approaching Attica’s stronghold as 
a plunderer and devastator! Conflicting emotions 
surged within his soul. Once again it seemed to him 
that he was in the far off Hermus valley, strolling by 
the little stream of Pactolus, and by his side was the 
austere Artaphernes whose stern visage was turned 
toward him with an expression of paternal rebuke. 
The vision faded leaving him troubled and sore at 
heart. 

That night Zopyrus had a dream. It seemed to 
him that his father appeared and beckoned silently to 
him to follow and that he wonderingly rose and obeyed. 
When they were out in the open, Artaphernes, who 
Zopyrus noticed was fully armed, pointed with his 
sabre toward Athens and repeated the memorable 
words of Darius, Remember the Athenians. Sud¬ 
denly the shade of his mother appeared to the right. 
She stood holding on her arm a scroll of papyrus, and 
while Zopyrus looked she pointed with it in the same 
direction as that indicated by the sabre of his father 
and behold, as Zopyrus turned he saw a beautiful city 
with numerous buildings of white marble, and in the 

[14] 


‘‘REMEMBER THE ATHENIANS” 


center a temple-crowned liill. In the streets were many 
busy people hurrying to and fro. Some talked from 
the temple steps while the populace listened, some vied 
with each other in various physical sports and others 
sold the produce of the soil in the bustling market¬ 
place, but whatever their occupation, they represented 
a happy and contented democracy. 

Marveling at this vision, Zopyrus turned to his 
father and noticed that the sabre now pointed to the 
east. Following the direction of its keen blade with 
reluctant eyes, Zopyrus beheld another city more 
gorgeous, but totally lacking in the refined beauty 
which characterized the city which lay to the west. 
The buildings of this eastern city possessed a massive¬ 
ness and grandeur that inspired in the beholder a pro¬ 
found awe. Upon the throne in the magnificent palace, 
and surrounded by a court retinue, sat a tyrant to 
whom all bowed in servility. On the.streets the people 
moved and worked en masse. There was no individu¬ 
ality, no differentiation, for these people were victims 
of an oriental despotism. 

When Zopyrus opened his eyes the palace and the 
toiling people had vanished and so likewise had the 
vision of the peaceful republic. The Persian father 
and Greek mother no longer stood before him. The 
youth knew that this dream represented the Persian 
and the Greek at war within himself for the supremacy. 

When morning broke, the camp was astir at an 
early hour for this was to be the day of days! Zopy¬ 
rus was awakened by the stamping and neighing of 
horses, the rattle of arms and the jocular voices of 
his comrades. 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


‘^Wake up, Zopyrus!’^ cried a friendly voice. 
Zopyrus saw his friend Masistius leaning over him. 

Xerxes bids us avenge the burning of Sardis to¬ 
day,^’ continued Masistius. ^^His words to all his offi¬ 
cers this morning are, ^Remember the Athenians!^ 
‘‘His advice to me is quite unnecessary,’^ replied 
Zopyrus, “for I can not forget them.” 


CHAPTER III. 

The Defense oh the Aceopolis. 

^^Dim is the scene to that which greets thee here, 
Prompting to worship, waking rapture’s tear, 

Yes, rise, fair mount! the bright blue heavens to kiss, 

Stoop not thj’’ pride, august Acropolis!” 

Nicholas Michell. 

T he city of Athens was seething with excitement, 
for the news had just been received that the 
Greek soldiers had been unable to hold the pass 
of Thermopylas. The streets were filled with groups, 
of agitated old men, women of all ages, and children, 
who seemed no longer capable of being controlled by 
reason. Weighted down by the burdens of their per¬ 
sonal property they prepared to flee. But whither! 

In the center of a group near the Areopagus, at 
the foot of the Acropolis on the north-west, were 
gathered about fifty men, women and children intently 
listening to the counsel of one to whom they turned at 
this time. He was a man of venerable countenance, 
flowing beard, and wore a white chiton with a hand¬ 
somely embroidered Greek border. 

‘^My friends,he was saying, ‘Get us make haste 
to the top of the Acropolis, there to defend our temples 
and to seek refuge within the ‘wooden wall.’ ” 

Some of his audience seemed inclined to take his 
admonition seriously, others hesitated as if in doubt. 

[ 17 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Presently a man whose personality was felt before he 
was actually visible came hurriedly into the group. He 
possessed a commanding bearing, noble face, an eye 
piercing and full of tire. There was decision in the 
swift gestures of his shapely hands. This man was 
Themistocles, the most powerful Athenian of his time. 
It was he who had persuaded his fellow-citizens to in¬ 
crease their navy at the time of the war with Aegina, 
and who sincerely believed that the future safety of his 
country lay with the ships which were now anchored 
in the bav of Salamis. 

He approached with dignified air the terrified 
gathering of Greeks, and there was an imperious ring 
in his voice as he addressed the spokesman of the 
group. 

‘^Kyrsilus, can you not persuade these people to 
come to the bay at once where some of the ships will 
conduct them safely to Salamis till all danger from this 
invasion is pastf^^ 

To his surprise the old man answered haughtily. 
‘H am trying to prevail upon these frightened people 
to seek refuge behind the 'wooden walP as the Delphic 
oracle warned us.’’ 

"The 'wooden wall,’ ” shouted Themistocles, "is 
not the Pelasgic wall which surrounds the top of the 
Acropolis. It is a wall of ships, and by this means 
alone will the people of Athens find refuge. Come!” 
he cried turning away, "all who wish to live to see the 
accursed foreigners expelled forever from Greece, fol¬ 
low me to the protection of the 'wooden wall!’ ” 

"And all who are brave enough to defend their 

[i8] 


THE DEFENSE ON THE ACROPOLIS 


city,’’ cried the old man, still firm in his conviction, 
‘^follow me to the protection of the ‘wooden wall!’ ” 

There was a division of opinion at the last mo¬ 
ment, Themistocles winning nearly half of Kyrsilus’ 
former followers. 

Clinging tightly to Kyrsilus’ hand as they as¬ 
cended the steps of the Acropolis was a young girl pos¬ 
sessing exceptional charm of face and of personality. 
The usual clearness of her blue eyes was dimmed with 
tears, and the customary curve of her smiling lips had 
vanished. Upon her luxuriant brown hair the sun re¬ 
vealed gleams of gold. She was clad in a white gar¬ 
ment which hung in graceful folds from her shoulders. 
Over this was slipped a holpos plaited at the waist. 
Her neck and arms were bare except for a necklace and 
bracelets of silver. The white of her dress and orna¬ 
ments brought out in favorable contrast the healthful 
pink of her youthful face. 

“Dear Kyrsilus,” the girl was saying, “I shall 
think of you as my father while my o^vn dear father is 
preparing to fight the Persians in the bay. He fought 
bravely at Marathon and I do not believe the gods will 
see him defeated at Salamis. My uncle too is in com¬ 
mand of one of the ships!” 

“It is possible that with such brave men as we pos¬ 
sess on our side the victory will be ours,” said the 
elder, “but remember the words of the oracle at Del¬ 
phi! Although there have been some differences of 
opinion as to the meaning of the words of the oracle, 
to me it is quite clear that our city should be defended 
from its sacred hill. I am not criticizing your father, 
nor Themistocles, nor others like them who seem 

[19] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 

sincere in tlieir belief that our land will be saved by a 
battle upon the water. However your father left you in 
my care, and I shall do what I deem best for your 
safety.^’ 

A faint smile fitted across the girPs face. ‘^Did it 
ever occur to you, Kyrsilus, that the words of the Del¬ 
phic oracle are usually vague and ambiguous t Come, 
be frank, do we not all try to interpret its prophecies 
to our individual satisfactions? Take for instance 
Themistocles, whose one obsession ever since he has 
risen to a place of prominence, has been to increase our 
navy. It is natural that he should desire to bring his 
beloved navy into use at the first possible opportunity. 
Then again let us consider you, dear Kyrsilus, and I 
mean no offense whatever. Your sister served many 
years as a priestess of Athena, performing her duties 
with others in the temple of Athena on this Acropolis. 
Then too you have lived in Athens longer than has 
Themistocles. The city itself and above all its templed 
hill, the very nucleus of Athens, are dearer to you than 
relatives of whom you now have none surviving. 

The old man looked sadly at the girl and turned 
his face away to hide a tear. He was deeply affected 
by her words and the sincerity of her manner, but he 
did not wish to betray his emotions. 

With an effort at severity he said, ^‘My daughter 
you do unwisely to ridicule the divine oracle of Apollo. 
The words it utters are not as you say ambiguous, but 
so fraught with significance that we mortals are inca¬ 
pable of full comprehension. We do our best to inter¬ 
pret the will of the god through his agents, and per- 

[ 20 ] 


THE-DEFENSE ON THE ACROPOLIS 


haps at best we can only guess what revelations he 
makes concerning the future. But it is unseemly in a 
maiden of your years to criticize our divine source of 
revelation. ’ ’ 

They were now at the top of a long flight of broad 
steps, and stood one hundred and fifty feet above the 
level of the city. In the distance through an atmos¬ 
phere of unusual clarity they beheld to the south and 
east, isolated peaks which, though apxjarently devoid 
of vegetation, possessed a beauty of color and contour 
that was enchanting. It was the time of the year when 
the Etesian winds came from across the blue Aegean 
and the whole fair land of Greece smiled under the 
magic touch of the goddess. Demeter. 

The faithful band of Kyrsilus’ followers passed 
through the gateway of the Pelasgic wall and stood 
in front of a large rectangular building, the temple of 
Athene Polias*. Upon a pediment of this temple was 
a grotesque serpent in relief, painted and gilded to a 
dazzling brightness. Processions of priests and priest¬ 
esses with conventional head-dress and stereotyped 
smile, formed a frieze which adorned the entablature. 
A figure in relief of Theseus carrying across his shoul¬ 
ders the Marathonian bull aroused in these, his sup¬ 
posed descendents, a renewed courage to protect their 
threatened city. They made ready for use what few 
weapons of defense they had among them, then retired 
to the temple to pray for the safety of Athens. 

‘^My daughter,^’ said old Kyrsilus, ^‘pray to Ares 
that our soldiers may be possessed of unusual valor 


* This was an older parthenon which existed before the one erected at the 
time of Pericles. 


[21] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


and courage in the coming conflict, and pray to Athena 
that our generals may wisely direct the approaching 
battle. ’ ’ 

^ ^ Father Kyrsilus, ’ ’ replied the maiden, ‘ ‘ I always 
pray to one God! You may call Him Zeus if you wish, 
but He is all powerful and in His hands alone rests 
the fate of Greece.^’ 

‘‘Hush my child,said the aged one, horrified, 
“you will call down the wrath of the goddess in whose 
temple you now stand! Will you not pray to Athena I ^ ’ 

Before the girl could reply, a young cripple, who 
because of his affliction, had been unable to join his 
friends in the defense of his land, hobbled into the 
temple. 

“They are coming, they are coming!’^ he cried 
pointing with trembling finger to the west. The ref¬ 
ugees, looking in the direction indicated, beheld on the 
distant horizon a mass of purplish nimbus which as it 
gathered momentum gradually took the definite shape 
of a vast glittering array of horsemen and foot-sol¬ 
diers. Petrified with terror they stood watching the 
approaching multitude, which swept relentlessly to¬ 
ward them, a great human deluge! 

“Quick! gather rocks and stones and pile them 
near the wall. The ascent is steep and few can attempt 
to scale it at a time. We can easily hold them back 
from the steps with these stones till our soldiers at 
Salamis return to our aid.’^ Kyrsilus forced an air 
of bravado to encourage his countrymen, but his heart 
sank as he beheld the barbarian host! For a brief 
space the maid^s doubt as to the wisdom of the oracle 
also took possession of him, but only for a moment. 

[22] 


THE DEFENSE ON THE ACROPOLIS 


He thought, ^‘When all else fails, Athena will protect 
her sanctuary and we can find refuge there. Soon 
the oscillating wave of humanity was beneath them. 
A voice from below rang out clearly above the clash 
of weapons: 

represent, 0 Athenians, one of the banished 
Peisistradi from this fair city. I beg of you, surrender 
your city to this world conqueror and save your holy 
places from pillage 

It was the resolute voice of Krysilus that replied: 

Behind the Svooden walP will we defend our temples, 
and the gods of Greece will aid us! ^ ^ 

The answer seemed to amaze the Persians. Their 
officers drew aside and discussed the situation, arriving 
at their decision without unanimity. 

The cripple whose name was Philinus, was ap¬ 
pointed sentinel since he was unable to lift the heavy 
rocks and stones. From a seat upon several boulders 
near the wall he could observe the movements of the 
Persians without being seen. 

Many of the girls and women wept and prayed for 
themselves and for their fathers, brothers, husbands 
and sons now on the fleet. A few had lost loved ones 
at Thermopylas. The maiden who had been mth 
Kyrsilus showed remarkable self-control. To her the 
others now turned for strength and encouragement. 
One girl to whom she seemed especially dear, clung to 
her robe tenaciously. 

Kyrsilus approached his charge, and there was on 
his countenance an expression of mingled horror and 
compassion. 


[23] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


Persephone/’ he said with trembling accents, 

a worse fate than death threatens you, and you 
can avail yourself of no weapon, better far fling your¬ 
self to the rocks below!” 

The girl, Ladice, who clung tightly to Persephone’s 
hand wept bitterly, calling upon the names of all the 
gods and goddesses to protect her. 

^^Why are you so calm, Persephone?” she cried. 
^‘Do you not realize that this Acropolis may be our 
huge funeral pyre ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes I know that, Ladice, but I pray to one God, 
and I have a belief in a future existence beyond this 
one, so I am not afraid to die. ’ ’ 

“I too have not had the horror of death that is 
common to many, but not because of any thought of an 
existence continuing beyond this. The certainty of 
oblivion after a tumultuous life in this world of ours 
is reward enough for me. Surely the peace of non¬ 
existence would be sufficient compensation.” 

The smile on Persephone’s face was indicative of 
andnner knowledge out of which she derived supreme 
satisfaction and which was incomprehensible to Ladice. 

An elderly man by the name of Moschion called 
excitedly from the gateway: “It will be necessary for 
all the women and girls who can, to help throw these 
stones upon the Persians who are climbing faster than 
we can prevent.” 

Persephone and Ladice with others rushed to their 
task, rendering the needed assistance, though their 
fingers bled and their bodies, unused to such prolonged, 
strenuous labor, ached to the point of complete ex¬ 
haustion. The additional help from the women turned 

[24] 


THE DEFENSE ON THE ACROPOLIS 


the tide of fortune temporarily in their favor, and the 
Persians were forced to abandon their attack upon 
the well protected west side, hut now they employed 
different tactics! They poured upon the wooden 
ramparts, arrows with burning tow attached to them 
and it was not long before the palisades were consigned 
to flames. Still the little group held its ground bravely, 
but Kyrsilus and Moschion at last sent the women into 
the temples where they soon joined them. Once within 
the sanctuary of the city^s patron goddess the fright¬ 
ened Greeks looked for a miracle, and indeed nothing 
short of a miracle could save them now! In this they 
were doomed to disappointment for the temple to 
Athena was the first to be reached by the hungry flames, 
and the frenzied Greeks were forced to abandon it for 
other smaller temples. 

It was soon observed that Philinus was not with 
them. He had last been seen in prayer before the altar 
of Athena and doubtless there he had met his death! In 
unspoken terror all wondered who would be the next 
victim on the altar of oriental voracity. The chapel 
of Aglaurus was farthest from the flames and to it the 
terror-stricken Greeks fled. Here for a time at least 
was safety and possible salvation. 

Watch the north side now!’^ cried Kyrsilus, 

‘‘The Persians may-but the words froze on his 

lips, for there at the doorway stood fifteen or more of 
the besiegers, who had succeeded in scaling the pre¬ 
cipitous northern side. 

“To the rocks below, my daughterscreamed 
Kyrsilus. “Do not forget my warning!’’ 

An officer laid rough hands on the aged Moschion: 

[25] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


‘^Old bald head, your time on earth is about up, any¬ 
way. You may as well journey on without delay. Old 
Charon is waiting to ferry you across the Styx.’^ 

‘‘Hold!’^ cried another voice, prefer to die first 
and not witness the end of these my followers. ’ ’ It was 
Kyrsilus. 

^‘As you wish,^^ cried the big Persian, ‘‘you are 
all to go anyway.^’ 

The brave Kyrsilus knelt before his captor whose 
spear-head disappeared in his breast. His face was 
convulsed in the agony of death, but mth his last faint 
breath he tried to speak to Persephone. “Perhaps you 
were right—about the oracle—to the rocks—below— 

Immediately following the tragic death of the 
leader the remaining men were killed and the rough 
floor of the little chapel became slippery with blood. A 
number of the women, following old Kyrsilus’ advice, 
flung themselves to certain death upon the ground be¬ 
low rather than fall into the hands of Xerxes’ soldiers. 

It was Artabazus, one of the most insolent and 
rapacious of the king’s officers, who discovered Per¬ 
sephone and Ladice cowering in a remote corner. 

“Oho, look what I have found here!” he laughed 
in a coarse loud voice. “Surely such a prize was 
worth that perilous climb.” 

He took a step forward and seized Persephone 
roughly, but as he did so, he caught the eye of a young 
officer who had just arrived upon the scene together 
with Xerxes himself. The king took in the situation at 
a glance and his narrow eyes gleamed in approbation. 

“A brave soldier deserves a fair prize, Artaba¬ 
zus,” he said. 


[26] 


THE DEFENSE ON THE ACROPOLIS 


^^One moment please It was the voice of the 
young officer Zopyrus. ‘^Did you not, cousin Xerxes, 
promise me a choice of the fairest maidens of the king¬ 
dom? This land of Greece is now a part of your 
kingdom, 0 mighty conqueror, and out of it I choose the 
maiden whom Artahazus now holds/^ 

‘^It is all one with me,^^ cried the impatient mon¬ 
arch, ‘‘Artahazus shall have the other maid/^ 

Zopyrus stepped forward and took the half un¬ 
conscious form of the beautiful girl in his arms, and 
amid the coarse jests and ribaldry of the Persian sol¬ 
diery, fled with his burden to the city below. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Mieacle of Salamis. 


First from the Greeks a tuneful shout uprose, 
Well omened, and with replication loud, 
Leaped the blithe echo from th^ rocky shore. 
Fear seized the Persian host, no longer tricked 
By vain opinion; not like wavering flight 
Billowed the solemn paean of the Greeks, 

But like the shout of men to battle urging. 

With lusty cheer. 


Aeschylus. 



HE Persian forces were now turning from the 


Acropolis, and drunk with victory, were scatter- 


^ ing over the city. Dwellings were plundered 
and burned, and a few wild-eyed Greeks who had re¬ 
mained to guard their valuable possessions, fled in mad 
confusion, but were overtaken by the ruthless enemy 
and slaughtered. 

Zopyrus^ one desire was to leave behind him the 
horrors of massacre and conflagration. With great 
difficulty he forced his way through jostling crowds of 
demoniac soldiers, who upon recognition of his uniform 
and insignia, stayed their impulse which was to mur¬ 
der any who did not take part with them in the destruc¬ 
tion of the city. 

The heat of a noon-day sun shone upon a scene 
unparalleled in the gruesome aspect which it presented. 


[28] 


THE MIRACLE OF SALAMIS 


Zopyrus turned his face to the west, for in this direc¬ 
tion the Persians did not go. Their fiendish work was 
in the heart of the once glorious city which lay to the 
north and east. Many too were pursuing a south-west 
course in the direction of the bay of Phalerum where 
the Persian navy had its headquarters. 

As Zopyrus trudged onward, the limp form of the 
Greek girl in his arms, he noticed that the road which 
he had chosen, though now deserted, was of unusual 
width and well paved. The dazzling heat, reflected 
from the white pavement, became oppressive, and it 
was with a feeling of ineffable joy that he saw to the 
right the cool green shadows of an olive-grove. Look¬ 
ing back between the gnarled trunks of two large trees 
whose branches were entwined in serpentine fashion, 
he beheld the Acropolis topped with its smoldering 
ruins. Once within the cool recesses of the grove he 
deposited his burden, and as he did so, he received a 
shock. Where before had he beheld those identical 
features in the relaxation of death? He looked again 
intently, thinking it an hallucination, and while his gaze 
rested upon her face, the maiden opened her eyes. 
With a look of unspeakable horror she recoiled, then 
as quickly turned her face in his direction, her features 
expressing amazement. The refinement of his coun¬ 
tenance in combination with his Persian uniform as¬ 
tonished her greatly. She marveled at his attitude of 
reserve. His gaze met hers and held it with an impell¬ 
ing magnetism till she dropped her eyes in confusion. 

“You—are a Greek in disguise?’’ she faltered. 

“On the contrary, I am a Persian officer in the 
army of Xerxes,” he replied, and perceiving her look 

[29] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


of terror, lie added, I will not barm you, rather 
I have rescued you from a horrible fate.’’ 

^^And I am truly grateful, but I am puzzled as to 
why you should care to do that for me, a daughter of 
the enemy.” 

^^The motives of a Persian are not always alto¬ 
gether base,” he replied somewhat coldly. 

‘‘A thousand pardons,” she beseeched, am 
greatly indebted to you for your kindness, but my peo¬ 
ple have suffered horribly at the hands of yours, and 
surely you can not wonder at my attitude! ’ ’ 

^^No,” he replied more gently, do not blame 
you, but I am glad to prove to you that Ahura-Mazdao 
may be as deserving of worship as Zeus.” 

To his surprise the suspicion of a smile flitted 
across her face. Was this bewitching Athenian maiden 
mocking him? Her features were again serious as she 
said: ‘‘Ahura-Mazdao and Zeus are one. There is one 
all-powerful God, and compared with Him the others 
are quite insignificant*. ” 

“You believe that?” he asked with fresh interest. 
“I had supposed polytheism to be the unshaken belief 
of the Greeks.” 

“Of the majority that is true,” she replied seri¬ 
ously, “but many of us, while performing the rites due 
our gods and goddesses, send our prayers to a Deity 
who is above the petty jealousies of the gods of Olym¬ 
pus. It was a prayer to that Deity which saved me 
from a tragic fate on the Acropolis!” 

He looked at her with a new interest. Not only 
did he consider her very beautiful, but he was surprised 
to find her possessing more intellect than was usual 

[30] 


THE MIRACLE OF SALAMIS 


among the Persian girls of his acquaintance. He knew 
too, that the Greek women were educated to be prin¬ 
cipally home-makers, and that beyond the duties of 
wives and mothers, their training was somewhat defi¬ 
cient. Therefore he was not a little amazed that this 
maid of Athens could express her views on religion 
with the assurance of a man. 

‘Hf a prayer to the Deity saved you, can not an¬ 
other such prayer save your ships there at Salamis!^’ 
he asked, but so kindly that she did not resent his ques¬ 
tion. 

‘Hjet us go to the shore,’’ she cried eagerly, ‘^and 
there I shall pray that success may come to my poor 
fellow-countrymen who know that their beloved city 
lies in ashes!” 

As they ascended the ravine which intersects the 
range of Mt. Aegaleos and gazed beyond toward the 
low hills which lay like purple velvet, fold on fold, it 
seemed to the man and the maid that hatred and war¬ 
fare must be altogether odious to a God who had cre¬ 
ated such beauty. And it seemed to them that man, the 
cro^vn of his creation, was not fashioned for the murder 
of his fellows, or to perish on the bloody field of battle. 
They passed numerous sanctuaries and temples whose 
white pillars stood like silent ghosts hiding amid the 
dark foliage of shady groves, or half concealed behind 
some grassy hillock, but always the great vault of the 
universal temple impressed upon them their common 
beliefs. At length from the top of a woody eminence 
they beheld the silvery sheet of the bay of Salamis, 
dotted with the Greek triremes. 

^‘Let us take this wooded path to the south,” 

[31] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 

suggested Zopyrus. will take us to the shore at a 
point considerably north of the Persian forces and out 
of the danger of meeting any chance pedestrians to 
Eleusis.” 

Persephone had explained that the road which 
they had traveled up to this point was indeed the 
Sacred Way which led from Athens to the city of 
Eleusis where there was a temple dedicated to the wor¬ 
ship of Demeter and of Dionysus. 

‘‘Many of my friends are now on yonder island/^ 
said Persephone pointing in the direction of the moun¬ 
tains of Salamis which girdled the hay. 

“Why were you not with them in this time of peril 
to your city?’’ asked the Persian. 

“Because my father, who is out there with the 
Greek fleet, left me in the care of an old friend, 
Kyrsilus, who believed that Athens could he saved by 
defending the Acropolis. My father will be frantic 
with grief when he hears of the fate of Athens, for he 
lost a son, my twin brother, in the battle of Ther- 
mopyla3. My brother Phales, was considered too young 
to fight and was refused permission to join the naval 
forces when he applied to Eurybiades, the commander 
of our fleet, so he united with the Spartans under king 
Leonidas, and as you know, not one of the three-hun¬ 
dred soldiers escaped death. 

Zopyrus was too overcome with emotion to trust 
himself to speak. Like a flash the association of her 
lovely face as she lay passive in his arms, with that 
other face, so strangely similar, was made clear. His 
had been the hand that had laid low that youth just 
on the threshold of manhood, and caused sorrow to the 

[ 32 ] 


THE MIRACLE OF SALAMIS 


brave father and the devoted sister! In his mind he 
lived over again that period of mental anguish preceed- 
ing the battle of Thermopylae. Then once again as in 
the heat of battle he saw before him the handsome face 
of the Greek lad as he lay at his feet in the peace of 
death. Oh, it was unbearable! He passed his hand 
across his eyes as if to shut out the haunting vision 
and lo! as he drew his hand away the same face was 
before him still, only now it appeared in the fresh 
vigor of life! As they followed the course of the little 
by-path, she noticed his sudden silence and wondered if 
it were possible that he felt any sorrow that a Greek 
soldier, though her brother, had met death in the pass 
of Thermopylae. 

No more words passed between them until they 
stood side by side on a small promontory, the bay, 
reflecting the glory of an afternoon sun at their feet. 
Persephone stood shading her eyes and looking eagerly 
toward the Greek triremes as if she hoped even at that 
distance to be able to discern a familiar figure on board. 
It was with new emotions that Zopyrus watched the 
slender form of the girl silhouetted against a horizon 
of water and sky like a sylph limned on gauze. She 
was clad in the flowing white, sleeveless chiton of the 
women of higher caste, with a plaited kolpos, giving a 
puff effect at the waist. Her hair, gold where the sun 
shone upon it but brown in the shadows, was parted 
so that it fell in loose waves around her temples. At 
the back, low in her neck, it was gathered in a soft 
Psyche knot. Her nose was typically Greek, straight 
and thin, and the perfect contour of cheek and chin 

[ 33 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


was the same that Zopyrus had observed in the slain 
lad at Thermopylae. 

^Must so have the opposing fleets lain for days/^ 
she cried. ‘‘That is the position in which they were 
when news was received at Athens that Aristides had 
arrived from Aegina whither he had been banished.’’ 

“Do yon think the Greek fleet would do well to 
strike first! Why not wait for the Persians to take 
the initiative!” Zopyrus asked. 

“Do you think I mil tell you, a Persian, what I 
think!” she cried angrily. 

He thought she was going to leave him, but in that 
he was mistaken. She walked a few paces away still 
gazing with shaded eyes toward the triremes. Her 
features now showed the tragic expression of despair. 
Themistocles had told the Athenians that the Pelo¬ 
ponnesians might withdraw their ships, and this, Per¬ 
sephone knew would mean victory to the Persians, and 
Asiatic rule in Greece. Why, oh why did the Greek 
ships hold back! It was in an agony of despair that 
the girl sank to her knees and would have fallen had 
Zopyrus not run to her assistance. 

“The prayer, oh, I had nearly forgotten the prayer 
for my people! I said I would pray at the shore and 
so I shall, for the salvation of Greece and the expulsion 
of the enemy!” The tears were coursing down her 
rounded cheeks and her frame shook with sobs. Eever- 
ently she raised her eyes to heaven and prayed with 
greater fervor than she had on the Acropolis. Then 
a few lives had been at stake, now the future of a na¬ 
tion and possibly races of mankind were involved! 

The sun apparently crept a few feet nearer its goal 

[34] 


THE MIRACLE OF SALAMIS 


and still the girl remained in her attitude of supplica¬ 
tion. All at once she stood erect and turned amazed 
in the direction of Eleusis and the Sacred Way. Borne 
on the breeze that was wafted across the picturesque 
bay of Eleusis came the sound of myriads of voices 
raised in a mighty paean of joy. The chant rose and 
fell in awful grandeur striking fear and adoring won¬ 
der to the hearts of Persians and Greeks. 

‘^It is the Hymn to Dionysus cried Persephone. 
‘ ^ That is the way it sounds at festival times, only this 
is a thousand times grander. There are none left in 
Greece to sing that hymn! Do you not see it is a 
miracle sent by the Deity in answer to my prayer? 
Listen! ’ ^ 

The volume of sound grew louder and more distinct 
until it seemed to surround them and they stood dumb 
with astonishment. Out over the waters of Salamis 
drifted the paean of solemn, dignified joy, and into the 
heart of every Greek it sent its message. Never to 
hear again in reality the Hymn to Dionysus! Never to 
walk in joyous procession with the celebrants from 
Athens to Eleusis, bearing the statue of locchos I Never 
to celebrate the national festivals so dear to the heart 
of every Greek! Was Greece to be overrun and con¬ 
quered by Orientals? The paean died away gradually 
and was followed by an ominous, death-like silence. 
Then a very different sound pierced the ears of the 
two listeners. It was the battle-cry of the Greeks as 
they sent forth their ships to meet the enemy. All fear 
had fled. Only one motive actuated the entire fleet and 
that was to save Greece at any cost. 

‘‘Do you see the ship that leads the assault?^’ 

[35] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


cried Persephone excitedly. ‘‘That is commanded by 
Lycomedes, a brave captain well deserving of the hon¬ 
ors he has won in previous conflicts, but the ship behind 
is a close second.’^ 

The leading Greek ship pursued a Persian vessel 
which was seemingly but a few feet in advance of the 
Greek boat. 

“The Persian vessel is making for that narrow 
space yonder but I doubt if it will have room to turn 
about and face its antagonist. It is like sailing between 
Scylla and Charybdis,^^ said Zopyrus. “Look it is 
about to turn, but the space will not permit. There—! ^ ’ 

As he spoke the boat commanded by Lycomedes 
struck that of the Persian broadside, nearly cutting it 
in twain with the sharp, strong beak. Instantly the 
greatest confusion reigned on board the damaged ves¬ 
sel. Soldiers leapt into the water, preferring drowning 
to death or captivity at the hands of the enemy. Per¬ 
sephone turned away with a shudder. Zopyrus ob¬ 
served her narrowly. 

“It pains you to witness the victory of this Lyco¬ 
medes he asked with a touch of sarcasm. 

“No, no,’’ she replied in distressed tones, “I 
should have been glad to hear of it, but I can not enjoy 
being an eye-witness to such a terrible scene! ’ ’ 

His feeling of bitterness left and he said more 
kindly, “Will you not go and rest under the shade of 
some tree well out of sight and somewhat out of sound 
of this battle!” 

Her reply rather surprised him. “If you can 
watch so serenely the annihilation of your countrymen, 
I can endure witnessing the victory of mine. Oh, ’ ’ here 

[36] 


THE MIRACLE OF SALAMIS 


she unconsciously clutched Zopyrus^ arm, unaware of 
the thrill of contact to the Persian, ‘Hhe second ship 
is commanded by my brave uncle, Ameinias. Look, he 
is pursuing a Persian ship which has so far eluded his 
beak! ’ ^ 

The battle was now raging in earnest, Persephone 
and Zopyrus stood with tense interest while at their 
feet was enacted one of the world ^s great tragic 
dramas. The narrow space in which they were en¬ 
gaged hindered the Persians and rendered their supe¬ 
rior number a disadvantage. Becoming panic-stricken, 
they collided with each other. Oars were broken, and 
unable to steer, they could not direct their blows with 
the prows, by which means they sought to sink an 
enemy ship. The bay was a moving mass of driving 
beaks and heaving wreckage. 

Whose is the vessel that my uncle still pursues?’’ 
asked the girl presently. 

^^That is the ship of Artemisia, queen of Halicar¬ 
nassus,” he replied. 

No sooner had the words fallen from his lips than 
the Karian queen’s boat collided with that of one of 
her countrymen, and Ameinias abandoned the pursuit. 
But Artemisia’s boat was not damaged and retreated 
quickly to the Persian side. 

believe the collision was deliberate,” said 
Zopyrus more to himself than to his companion. ‘‘By 
apparently becoming a deserter and sinking one of her 
own ships, she escaped with her life.” 

“Who is this Artemisia, that she commands a ship 
and displays such keen intelligence in naval warfare?” 
asked Persephone with growing interest. 

[37] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


^‘Slie is a companion of Xerxes, and had proven 
a wise counsellor. Her advice when followed has al¬ 
ways been adept, and when unheeded, disaster has 
resulted. This naval engagement with the Greeks was 
undertaken entirely against her wishes and this is the 
result! ^ ^ 

Persephone smiled. ‘‘I am glad I do not have to 
serve in the capacity of king^s counsellor. My talents 
evidently lie in a different direction. I can not cause 
battles to be fought or not, at will.^^ 

‘‘No, little maid of Greece, but it seems that by 
your prayers you can determine the results of the 
battles that are fought. Your power is far greater 
than that of Artemisia!^’ 

Her eyes were filled with tears of happiness. “The 
One God who is powerful above all others does hear 
and answer the prayers of earnest suppliants."^ 

It was difficult to say whether the sweet loveli¬ 
ness in the lines of Persephone’s face, or her majesty 
of character gave her the greater fascination, but as 
the youth gazed upon her features illuminated with 
triumph and joy, he became convinced that she was 
the most attractive woman he had ever kno^vn. 

“When the battle is over, where will you gof” he 
asked. 

“Wherever my father or uncle wish, — and you?” 
For a moment he hesitated. Should he tell her of 
his Greek mother and of the conflicting emotions which 
had been his ever since the beginning of the campaign ? 
She observed his indecision and said softly even seduc¬ 
tively: “You have seen much to rouse your sympathy 
for my people, have you not? Surely the atrocities 

[38] 


THE MIRACLE OF SALAMIS 


wrought by the Persians have not met with the 
approval of one who could rescue a maiden in dire dis¬ 
tress, though she were of the enemy!’’ 

Zopyrus was soldier before he was lover. He had 
come over with the Persian host to aid in subduing 
Greece, and here he was nearly allowing himself to be 
swayed by the charms of a Greek maid. For the mo¬ 
ment he forgot that his Greek mother had been the 
strongest influence, barring his vows as an officer, that 
had as yet actuated him in this campaign. He felt 
momentarily the sting of the defeat of Salamis. 

‘H go to the Persians at Phalerum, after I have 
seen you safe with your people,” he replied coldly. 

uThere is no danger now,” she answered, and 
there was a twinkle in her eye. ^‘With the defeat of 
the Persians, I am secure in my own country.” 

He looked at her speechlessly as she stood in an 
attitude of superb defiance, then moved by a sudden 
impulse, he strode toward her and gathered her roughly 
in his arms, crushing her against him till she cried out 
with pain. 

^^You see your danger is not over, is it!” he asked 
fiercely. 

She ceased to struggle, and when he looked at her 
pale face and into her eyes, which are ever truer mes¬ 
sengers of the soul than the spoken words of the mouth, 
he read a truth which bewildered him. Passionately 
he kissed her lips, once, twice, thrice, then rudely put 
her from him and strode away in the direction of 
Phalerum. 


[39] 


CHAPTER V. 


The Traitok of Thermopylae, 

‘‘Maid of Athens, ere we part, 

Give, 0, give me back my heart! 

Or since it has left my breast. 

Keep it now, and take the rest!^’ 

Lord Byron. 

A SMALL barge shot out from the shadows of a 
cliff through the light spray which spumed about 
its prow as it cut the billows. Its occupants, in 
addition to the two oarsmen, were a youth and maiden 
of comely features. The former was clad in a long, 
deep bordered chiton covered with a chlamys or cape 
of semi-military style. His feet were protected by 
leather sandals, bound with straps about the calves of 
his legs. In indolent ease he stretched his too graceful 
form and gazed from beneath half closed eye-lids at 
the beautiful young woman who reclined upon a cush¬ 
ioned dais at the boat’s prow. The woman, if she were 
conscious of the other’s gaze, did not make it manifest. 
Her eyes sought the tranquil water with a dreamy, far¬ 
away expression. For some time the two sat thus. At 
length the man’s attitude of indolence changed ab¬ 
ruptly. He leaned forward, drawing his companion’s 
gaze to his. 

‘ ‘ Why this coolness to me, Persephone f You have 

[40] 


THE TRAITOR OF THERMOPYL^ 


been a changed girl ever since I found you wandering 
alone on the shore near Eleusis. Have the horrors of 
recent events affected your reason, that you do not 
smile upon me as was your wont^’ 

‘Ht must he the war, Ephialtes, that makes my 
spirit so downcast. If only the entire Persian army 
had retreated across the Hellespont Avith Xerxes! 
Plordes of them still remain in Thessaly, rallying, I 
presume, to attack us again. 

‘^We are safe here at Salamis for the time being, 
and if I thought what you have said was the true cause 
of your listlessness, I should not worry, but I have 
feared lately that you consider seriously the attentions 
of Icetes, may Pluto take him!^’ 

Persephone colored to her temples at these words. 
^Hcetes is a sincere and lovable friend. He is no more 
to me than an elder brother and I will not hear his 

t 

name so defiled.’^ 

A sneer curled the handsome lips of the Greek but 
his expression changed quickly to one of passionate 
adoration. have loved you ever since T first saw 
you, Persephone, and I will not allow another to come 
between you, the rare object of my affections and me. 
Your father has consented to a betrothal, has he notP^ 
The maiden looked away quickly. ^‘Father does 
not Avholly approve of you, Ephialtes, if the truth must 
be known. You know father has strict ideas and I am 
his only daughter! ’ ’ 

‘^Of course you are,’^ the young man responded 
irritably, ^‘but he must expect you to wed sometime, 
and where will he find a better suitor for your hand out¬ 
side of royalty? I have wealth,here Ephialtes 

[41] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


touched the rich border of his costly garment and the 
jewel in his dark hair, ‘‘good looks, and prospects of 
political favor. 

Persephone hesitated to state that the doubtful 
source of Ephialtes’ wealth was one of her father ^s 
objections to him as a prospective son-in-law. Also 
the fact that he spent his money lavishly upon personal 
comforts and luxuries, but had failed to donate toward 
the sum being raised for the rebuilding of Athens, was 
against him. 

“Do not press me for an answer now, Ephialtes. 
The Persians have not yet been expelled from Greece, 
and you may have to don helmet and cuirass once again 
before our beloved country is safe from the oriental 
invader. ’ ^ 

“When the Athenians return to rebuild Athens 
will you give me your answer P’ persisted Ephialtes. 

“I will consider seriously at that time,’^ replied 
the girl smiling demurely into the handsome face now 
close to her o^vn. 

Persephone was a true Greek in that she believed 
that physical beauty was the index of the rarer quali¬ 
ties of mind and heart. The youth who sat opposite 
possessed physical beauty to an unusual degree. The 
soft breezes from across the water stirred his dark 
thick locks, and the dazzling reflection of the late after¬ 
noon sun on the dancing waves was reflected a second 
time from his dark eyes whose light fluctuated even as 
that upon the oscillating surface of the water. 

“Tell me again of your heroism at Thermopylae,’^ 
whispered the maiden. 

“No, I would not seem to brag of my gift of valor. 

[42] 


THE TRAITOR OP THERMOPYLAE 


It is enough, is it not, that I have told yon of my at¬ 
tempt to save the life of Leonidas?’^ 

Persephone smiled at him in approval, then her 
features became serious as she asked; ^‘Has the traitor 
of Thermopylae yet been discovered? But for him, our 
city would not now be in ashes and thousands of lives 
would have been spared including that of my dear 
brother, PhalesA’ 

She raised tear-dimmed eyes to her companion: 
^^Ephialtes, seek the traitor and deliver him to us, that 
through the agency of man, God may avenge that foul 
act of treason. Could you do this, Greece would honor 
your name as it did that of Miltiades.^^ 

The man turned his face away, his mood quickly 
altered by the girPs words. 

‘‘Humanity is fickle,’’ he replied with a peculiar 
air of detachment. “Miltiades did. not enjoy public 
favor for long, you remember. Just because he went 
on a little trip to avenge a personal wrong, immediately 
the populace forgot his heroism at Marathon and con¬ 
victed him for that minor offence.” 

“But,” replied the girl, “Miltiades became arro¬ 
gant and forgot public interests for his own. Zeus 
always punishes insolence by having Justice recom¬ 
pense in due season.” 

Ephialtes was obstinately silent, unmoved by Per¬ 
sephone’s words. He dared say no more for fear of 
betraying himself. Persephone, he loved to as great 
an extent as it is possible for one of such selfish in¬ 
stincts to love. She did not possess great wealth, and 
conscious of his own mercenary nature, he wondered 
that he could so love where money was no object. He 

[43] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


had great respect for her mental superiority, while at 
the same time he feared it, but it was her physical 
loveliness which appealed to him most. He longed 
to possess her, body and soul, and the usual patience 
with which he could await the attainment of his desires, 
was becoming depleted. He had always prided himself 
on his ability to bridle his impulses if he felt that they 
interfered in any way with the ultimate attainment 
of a desired goal. Where self-restraint is lacking, 
there is no order, and no one knew this any better than 
Ephialtes. 

It was that magical hour between daylight and 
dusk that is of such short duration in the countries of 
the south. Away to the west stretched the hills of 
Salamis, the setting sun shedding a flood of glory upon 
the picturesque undulations. Then one by one the 
stars began to appear and soon the canopy of the 
heavens was studded with myriads of twinkling lights. 

^^Let us hasten back to the island,’^ said Per¬ 
sephone shivering slightly. ‘‘The air is chill and I 
brought no wrap with me. ’ ^ 

The young man removed his cape and placed it 

around the shoulders of his companion. Persephone 

seemed despondent. Even the beautiy of the evening 

on the water beneath the stars did not cheer her. The 

% 

barge was now, at the request of the maiden, turning 
its prow toward the promontories of her temporary 
home. 

“Persephone, pleaded the youth once more, “will 
you not give me an answer now, and if in the affirma¬ 
tive, I shall be the happiest man in all Greece.’’ 

Persephone smiled a little, but was still troubled. 

[44] ■ 


THE TRAITOR OP THERMOPYL^ 


^^Dear Ephialtes,’^ she said, ^^you have it in you 
to be so brave as you proved at Thermopylae, but before 
I consent to a marriage between us, I want one more 
accomplishment that will bring glory to your name. 
Discover for our country Thermopylae’s traitor.” 

Ephialtes ’ brow clouded. ^ ‘ That is a very difficult 
task. Will not proof of heroic valor in the next con¬ 
flict with the Persians suffice to bring you to my arms, 
a willing bride ? ” 

The barge now glided into a cove near the city, 
and Ephialtes rose to assist his fair companion in 
alighting from her seat at the prow. As she yielded 
her arm to his, she raised to his face a countenance, 
though outwardly serene, yet strangely determined. 

‘ ‘ On the day that you deliver to Greece the traitor 
of Thermopylae I will become your wife,” 


[45] 




CHAPTER VI. 

Athena Speaks Thkough the Olive Bkanch. 

‘^We climb the ancient steep, which chief and sage 
Mounted before, through many a changeful age; 

Where Cimon blessed the gods that Greece was free, 

And Thras'ybulus shouted Wictory.’ ’’ 

Nicholas Michell. 

A t the top of the long rugged path by which 
one mounted the Acropolis, stood a young man 
of martial bearing. Upon his features contempt 
and yearning curiously mingled. At his feet lay a 
city now silent and deserted, which had once teemed 
with active humanity. Whether he looked to north or 
south, to east or west, there crowded upon his memory 
in rapid succession, incidents that brought to him the 
convincing reality that this city was associated with all 
that was dear to him. 

The fleeting memories that crowded in and out of 
his mind came from a diversity of experiences. Now 
there came to him thoughts as he looked toward the 
Agora* that brought a wistful smile to his lips. He 
was once more a mischievous boy running through the 
busy market to escape the wrath of the pursuing ven¬ 
der whom he had angered by the theft of a tempting 
bit of fruit. Then—and his brow clouded while a blush 
of shame flushed his cheek—he was a wild youth arro- 


* Market-place. 


[46] 



ATHENA SPEAKS THROUGH THE OLIVE-BRANCH 


gant and prond, and steeped in sin, liow deep, lie did 
not realize till later! Then had followed the excite¬ 
ment of war—his father as commander of the Greeks 
had won a great victory over the Persians at Mara¬ 
thon ! His father the great Miltiades, whose name was 
on every tongue and whose praise was snug through¬ 
out Greece, returned, the idol of the hour, and Cimon, 
though too young to have participated at Marathon, 
commemorated his parent ^s triumph with a sumptuous 
feast, the like of which had never before nor since been 
celebrated in Athens. And then—here Cimon ^s head 
sank upon his breast—had followed the disgrace and 
death of that father whose bravery had been extoled 
throughout the land. His courageous father who had 
stood firm before the darts of Datis and Artaphernes, 
yielded to a desire to avenge a petty, personal wrong, 
and fell with an arrow in his heart. But after all, 
Cimon considered, had not the father \s disgrace 
brought the son to his senses? His former friends 
shunned him in a way that he knew was due not alone 
to the paternal disgrace, but to the former arrogance 
with which he had flaunted his pride of social standing 
in the faces of his associates. 

The blush of shame which mantled his brow gave 
evidence of the remorse which the young Cimon had 
suffered. Suddenly he stood erect and held his head 
high, a triumphant gleam in his blue eyes. Yes he had 
made a real man of himself after all and had won the 
respect and confidence of his fellows, not through his 
poor father’s achievements, but through virtues of his 
own. He would do what he could yet to bring this be¬ 
loved city back to her former splendor. The Persians 

[47] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


though defeated at Salamis, would he knew, rally for 
another attack, for they had not left northern Greece, 
and he, Cimon, would exert himself to the utmost to 
save the land which his father had so bravely defended 
ten years before. 

His eyes glowed with enthusiasm while visions of 
the future held him in absorption. What Miltiades had 
been to Greece, he would be, and more. His father had 
been all soldier, but in him, Cimon, were there not 
mingled some of the qualities necessary to the making 
of a statesman as well? He turned and viewed with 
grief the ponderous slabs that had once composed the 
temple to Athena. Would not Athens soon need an¬ 
other such edifice, grander and of more beautiful pro¬ 
portions than the one which had recently occupied this 
site? Some leader would arise after this war, why 
not he ? Of course Themistocles, here his brow puckered 
to a frown, was a great man and had been the savior 
of Greece at Salamis, but Themistocles would soon be 
past his prime, whereas he was young. He drew him¬ 
self to his full height, unconsciously placed his hand 
upon the hilt of his sword and gazed beyond the north 
horizon in which direction he knew the Persians rallied 
for another attack upon the stronghold of Attica. 

His mind returned again to the statesman, The¬ 
mistocles. He had been the last person to see Ladice 
alive, and it was known for certain that she was among 
those who ascended the Acropolis with Kyrsilus. Al¬ 
though it was first reported that all of that brave little 
band had been slaughtered, rumor had been rife that 
some of the younger women had been spared—^but only 
to meet a worse fate; that of captivity in the harems 

[48] 


ATHENA SPEAKS THROUGH THE OLIVE-BRANCH 


of the Persians. If that had been Ladice’s fate, far 
better that she had met death with the others on the 
Acropolis! But Ladice did not love him. Oh, the sting 
of that realization! Ladice knew of the wild life that he 
had led and of the drunken orgies in which he had par¬ 
ticipated. Perhaps it was presumptuous for him to 
think with love upon a girl of such stainless character 
as Ladice, but had he not vowed by all the gods that he 
would live an upright life and had he not kept that vow 
for nearly four years? 

Slowly he advanced among the ruins which lay 
about him, mute evidences of a destructive power as 
yet unconquered. 

^^She probably offered a last prayer to Athena 
here,’^ he surmised as he sadly surveyed what had 
once been the sanctuary of that goddess. Vainly he 
strove to suppress the violent agitation of his soul. 
At last with a despairing cry he sank to his knees, and 
with uplifted hands prayed to the goddess: ^^Oh 
Athena, thou who knowest what took place at thy 
sanctuary, even though thou wert unable to defend it 
against the hordes of Xerxes, did Ladice die among 
the followers of Kyrsilus or was she taken captive by 
Persian soldiers? If she is now a prisoner among 
them, is there a chance for her rescue? Is there a 
chance for this city that is named for thee 0 Athena? 
Give me a sign, 0 Goddess, that is all I ask, a sign 
that I may set forth with renewed hope and vigor to 
aid in expelling the dreaded foes from our bound¬ 
aries!^^ 

Cimon staggered to his feet, his eyes resting 
wearily on the debris that was piled about him. 

[49] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Presently among the fragments of a demolished pillar 
he saw something that caused him to doubt the truth¬ 
fulness of his sight. Here on the top of the Acropolis 
where destruction through the agency of fire and 
sword had been followed by chaos, was a bit of living 
green vegetation! Cimon approached in awe and be¬ 
wilderment, then he uttered an exclamation of joy, 
for the sacred olive tree which had been planted in 
honor of the patron goddess years before, had sent 
forth a new green shoot a cubit in length. The young 
man knew as he gazed upon this miracle of life sprung 
from the ashes of death, that Athena spoke by the olive- 
branch the promise that Athens should arise from her 
despair and ruin. With a lighter heart than he had 
felt for many a weary day, Cimon descended the path, 
and in his heart not only hope, but a grim determina¬ 
tion to help in the restoration of his beloved city, found 
lodgment. 


CHAPTER VII. 

The Banquet of Attaginus. 

^‘How oft when men are at the point of death 
Have they been merry 

Shakespeare. 

A fter the defeat of the Persians at Salamis, 
Xerxes retreated across the Hellespont to Asia, 
but Mardonins was not so easily disheartened. 
With three hundred thousand men he wintered in Thes¬ 
saly making thorough preparations for a second attack 
upon Athens the following summer. What was his 
utter amazement upon re-entering the city to find it 
completely deserted, its citizens having remained at 
Salamis, Troezen and Aegina. Thereupon he retreated 
to Thebes in Boeotia there to await the Greek offensive 
which was to be strengthened by aid from the Spar¬ 
tans. 

On a certain evening in spring, ten months after 
the destruction of Athens, Zopyrus and his friend 
Masistius, sat outside the entrance of the latter’s tent 
in the Persian encampment near Thebes. The night 
was cool for that time of the year, hut the chill was 
warded off to some extent by a brightly blazing fire. 

^‘What think you of this sumptuous feast to he 
given by the Theban Attaginus, on the morrow?” asked 
Zopyrus. 

expect I shall enjoy the feast, but I do not 

[ 51 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


admire the Boeotians,’^ replied Masistius. ‘^They are 
unfaithful to their country’s cause, and above all 
things I loathe a traitor. Of course our outward ap¬ 
pearances must be those of friendship, for they are of 
inestimable service to the Persian cause, but how dif¬ 
ferent from the traitorous Thebans was that little band 
of Athenians who tried to defend their Acropolis!” 

Zopyrus’ brow clouded at memory of that tragic 
scene. ‘‘By the way Masistius, what became of the 
girl whom Xerxes gave to Artabazus when the latter 
was forced to surrender the maiden to whom I laid 
claim ? ’ ’ 

Masistius gazed silently into the bright flames and 
tossed a twig into the fire, watching it a moment before 
he spoke. 

“Her young life will be consumed just as that 
twig. She was taken away by Artabazus and is now 
a captive in his harem.” 

Masistius paused a moment impressively, then he 
asked without even glancing in Zopyrus’ direction: 
“And the other maiden, what of her? But that is a 
rude question,” he added, laying an atfectionate hand 
upon the other’s shoulder. “I presume by now she is 
safe with her people.” 

Zopyrus turned quickly and sought his compan¬ 
ion’s gaze. “Friend Masistius,” he said, “I have 
kept locked within my breast these ten months, a secret, 
so precious that I hesitate to share it, and I would not 
do so were it not approaching the eve of battle, but to 
you who throughout this entire campaign, have been 
the only friend whose ideas of life coincide with mine, 
I will disclose that which I had not thought to reveal 

[52] 


THE BANQUET OF ATTAGINUS 


to mortal man. Althongh. my acquaintance with the 
maiden of whom you speak was of short duration, it 
was, nevertheless, long enough to convince me that I 
want her for my wife.’’ 

The Persian cavalryman expressed no little sur¬ 
prise at his friend’s disclosure. 

‘^Was the infatuation mutual?” he asked. 

^‘If I possess any ability in interpreting a maiden’s 
thoughts through her eyes, my love is reciprocated,” 
said Zopyrus, the color mounting to his temples. 

‘^If that be the case,” spoke Masistius heartily, 
^^may Ahura-Mazdao bring you together after we have 
conquered Greece!” 

^‘And if we cannot succeed in subduing the 
Greeks?” 

'^^Then Zeus may perform the act of reuniting 
you,” replied Masistius somewhat bitterly. 

The fire had by this time died down till only a few 
glowing embers remained. Zopyrus rose to take his 
leave. 

^‘Farewell, Masistius, till the feast. Forget the 
confidences of the past hour. This love of mine can 
avail nothing. ’ ’ 

‘‘Of that I am not so sure, Zopyrus. The vision 
of a certain beautiful young woman has kept up my 
courage that might otherwise have failed me.” 

With a friendly hand-clasp, the two parted. 


The hall appropriated to the feast was part of the 
private home of the Theban leader, Attaginus. Through 
a wide entrance at one side of the hall, the guests 
glimpsed a court, the floor of which was of variegated 

[53] 



PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


mosaic tiles forming intricate designs and patterns. In 
the center a marble fountain tossed up its silvery cool¬ 
ing spray. Among the potted palms and ferns, birds 
of bright-colored plumage flitted about adding their 
sweet notes to that of cithera and flute. Rarest flowers 
of every hue glowed from sculptured vases among the 
green foliage of the plants, and sweet spices burned in 
guilded tripods. 

Within the hall the cedar-wood tables* groaned 
under the weight of gold and silver dishes filled with 
tasty viands. There were thrushes browned to a turn, 
fish, lentils, olive-oil, cheese, fruit, cakes baked in the 
shape of Persian and Greek soldiers, and many des¬ 
serts and dainties to induce thirst for the wine which 
was to come later. 

The astute Attaginus had arranged his guests in 
such a manner that a Boeotian and a Persian occupied 
the same couch. In this way he hoped to stimulate the 
fraternal spirit between Persian and Greek. Thus 
Artabazus found himself occupying a couch with a 
Theban cavalryman by the name of Timegenidas, 
Masistius discovered his companion to be a certain 
Theban, Asopodorus, while Mardonius and Attaginus 
were partners. 

Zopyrus being an inferior officer to those men¬ 
tioned, sat among others of equal rank with himself at 
an end of the hall. In spite of the revel and festivity 
about him, he labored in vain to throw off a sense of 
depression. To one of his nature it was impossible 
to forget the probable tragedies of the morrow in the 


* Each two guests were furnished with a small three-legged table on which 
the food was served already cut up. 


[54] 



THE BANQUET OF ATTAGINUS 


carousal and merry-making of today. These men 
about him were trying to veil sorrow with levity; a 
thing that men have done for countless ages and prob¬ 
ably always will; a last expiring effort to enjoy life 
while it is still in their possession; a desire to crowd 
out of consciousness the possibility of oblivion by a 
present rapturous delight in the reality of existence. 

The Greek who sat with Zopyrus observed his non¬ 
chalance and endeavored to encourage conversation. 
He plied Zopyrus with questions as to his native city; 
the details of the campaign from Sardis to Thessaly, 
until the Persian was forced to make similar inquiries 
in regard to the Boeotian, who he learned was a citizen 
of Orchomenus, by the name of Thersander. 

At the close of the above mentioned courses ser¬ 
vants entered and moved noiselessly about, putting 
wreaths on the heads and around the necks of the guests 
and pouring upon them sweet-scented ointments. At 
this point in the feast Attaginus arose and all eyes were 
turned in his direction. 

^‘We will appoint a symposiarch* by lot,^’ he ex¬ 
plained, ^‘so that Greek and Persian will be treated 
fairly.^’ 

believe my companion here would make an ex¬ 
cellent symposiarch,^^ said Timegenidas, laughingly 
indicating Artabazus. think he would be sparing 
in the use of water. Am I right, my friend P’ 

Where wine, revelry and women, though the lat¬ 
ter are sadly wanting here, are concerned, ^ ^ said Arta¬ 
bazus in a loud voice, ^Hhere I am willing to take a 
prominent part.’’ 

* One who mixes the wine and presides at the symposium. 

[55] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


^ ‘ I am sure you would prove an excellent symposi- 
arch/’ courteously replied the host, ^^but we will to¬ 
night follow the usual custom and cast lots for that 
service. ’ ^ 

The lot fell to Masistius before whom the servants 
placed a large ornate mixing bowl upon a handsome 
golden salver. In accordance with his practice of mod¬ 
eration in all things, Masistius used three parts of 
water to two of wine, much to the disgust of Arta- 
bazus and a few others present. 

‘^Masistius,’’ called Artabazus, ‘Hhis may be the 
last wine we drink here on earth, so beware of mixing 
frog’s wine. Make it strong enough for us to forget 
in it the threatening dangers of tomorrow. Add some 
more of that which our host says comes from Lesbos!” 

The symposiarch ignored the latter’s remarks. 
His large, well-built frame, as he performed his task, 
attracted the attention of all the banqueters. 

‘Hf he attains such superb physique with three 
parts of water and two of wine, we can do no better 
than to follow his example,” said one. 

‘Mt is said there is none braver among the men 
of the cavalry,” remarked another. 

To all this conversation, Zopyrus was a silent 
listener. His eyes rested with fond approval upon the 
manly form of his friend Masistius. He watched 
closely the frank, open countenance and was well 
pleased with the jovial, but at the same time, dignified 
demeanor. How would it fare with Masistius on the 
morrow? Of himself he did not think. He was pres¬ 
ently aware that Artabazus was addressing the ban¬ 
queters generally. 


[56] 


THE BANQUET OF ATTAGINUS 


‘^You Greeks actually do not seem to miss the pres¬ 
ence of women at your banquets! Now to me, for my 
tastes are so refined, the presence of feminine beauty 
adds a charm for which no amount of flowers, birds or 
music can substitute.’^ 

The Greek Asopodorus now spoke, and his voice 
in contrast to the raucous accents of the Persian, fell 
pleasingly upon the ears of the feasters. ‘‘We Greeks 
believe in a unit of love in which love of beautv, of 
wealth, sensual love, intellectual love and many others 
are but earthly modifications of the true and the good. 
Thus a love which satisfies the aesthetic can take as 
great delight in the manly strength of a youth’s body 
as in the graceful, softer lines of a woman’s form.” 

“Ah,” thought Zopyrus, “Many of these Greeks 
think and feel as Asopodorus. Their adoration of love¬ 
liness in any form is their outstanding characteristic. 
They love the beauty of this earthly paradise in which 
they dwell, yet because they love power less, they are 
turning over their beautiful land to foreigners. If I 
had only been born a Greek!” 

He glanced at Thersander. “I am half Greek, and 
may the gods smite me if I do not look more Greek than 
this fellow near me! If it were not for Masistius whom 
I love as a brother, I believe I should not tolerate see¬ 
ing this fair land over-run by such as Artabazus and 
many another eastern despot.” 

Although the wine was not strong enough to im 
toxicate if taken in moderation, the spirits of many of 
the guests were rising as the evening wore on, owing 
to excessive drinking. At length six girls, whose hair 
was entwined with daisies, appeared at the entrance to 

[57] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


the court. Each held a lyre and sang as she moved 
lightly on tip-toe between the tables. They were mod¬ 
estly attired so as not to offend the taste of the most 
fastidious, for Attaginus was a conservative man and 
much respected in Thebes. 

‘^So much for your love of the assthetic, Attagi¬ 
nus, ’ ’ laughed Mardonius, winking at the Theban. ‘ ‘ In 
accordance with your theory why did you not have 
some handsome youths dance with the lyre I 

Because,’^ replied Attaginus, ^‘the male figure 
does not appear as well in a dance, but I could have 
put on a wrestling match that I think would well have 
pleased my guests.’’ 

‘‘The girls will prove far better entertainers,” 
said Artabazus, who had overheard the conversation, 
“but why are their charms so hidden? They might 
better be a group of priestesses than dancers amid the 
revelry and loud clamor of a banquet! ’ ’ 

The evening wore on in this fashion, the feasters 
trying to out-rival one another in attracting the atten¬ 
tion of the six damsels. When the singing and dancing 
were at an end and the maidens had disappeared, the 
conversation turned to the more serious matters of the 
approaching battle. Mardonius spoke. 

“The Athenians will regret their refusal to form 
an alliance with us against the Peleponnesians. Re¬ 
member Thermopylae, my friend and do not forget that 
Salamis was a naval battle. Athens’ powerful navy 
will avail her naught in the approaching conflict. ’ ’ 
“Your great leader speaks most encouragingly, 
my friend,” said Thersander addressing Zopyrus, 
“wherefore are you so downcast?” 


j 


THE BANQUET OF ATTAGINUS 


Zopyrus paused a moment before replying, then 
said in a voice low enough to be audible only to his 
companion: 

‘ ‘ Since you have now partaken with me at the same 
table, I desire to leave with you some memorial of my 
convictions: the rather in order that you may be your¬ 
self forewarned so as to take the best counsel for your 
own safety. Do you see these Persians here feasting, 
and did you observe the army which we left yonder en¬ 
camped near the river? Yet a little while, and out of 
all these you will behold but a few surviving 

Thersander replied. Surely you are bound to 
reveal this to Mardonius and to his confidential ad¬ 
visers 

But the Persian rejoined. ^^My friend, man can not 
avert that which God has decreed to come. No one will 
believe the revelation, sure though it be. Many of us 
Persians know this well, and are here serving only 
under the bond of necessity. And truly this is the most 
hateful of all human suffering—to be full of knowledge 
and at the same time to have no power over any re¬ 
sult. ’ ’ 

Zopyrus was himself amazed at his own frank out¬ 
burst. Many times had he longed thus to express him¬ 
self, and so he had revealed to Thersander what he 
dared not to his friend Masistius. The east was 
kindling into a glorious day as the banqueters took 
leave of their host, Attaginus . 


[59] 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Masistius^ Message to Zopykus. 

‘‘But down on his threshold, down! 

Sinks the warrior’s failing breath, 

The tale of that mighty field 
Is left to be told by Death.” 

Letitia Elizabeth Landon. 

P LAT^A lay on the northern slope of beautiful 
Mt. Cithaeron at the foot of which wound the pic¬ 
turesque river Asopus. On this day in mid¬ 
summer, four hundred and seventy-nine B. C., three 
hundred thousand Persians and fifty thousand Greek 
allies were encamped on the north bank of the river 
while the confederate Greek army which numbered one 
hundred and ten thousand, waited for the Persian at¬ 
tack on the slopes of Cithaeron. Because of unfavorable 
advice from soothsayers, both sides hesitated to com¬ 
mence the assault. 

After several days of suspense, Mardonius sum¬ 
moned his soothsayer to his tent, the same tent occu¬ 
pied by Xerxes before his return to Asia. The general 
sat before a table gazing steadfastly at a parchment 
which was spread before him. The soothsayer bowed 
and approached Mardonius. 

‘‘Did you send for me, my lord? he asked. 
Mardonius lifted a face that was strangely pale 

[6o] 


MASISTIUS’ MESSAGE TO ZOPYRUS 


and haggard. ^^Aye, Hegesistratus, I would know the 
latest signs. 

^‘It grieves me that the signs are all unfavorable, 
especially in the case of an initiative on the Persian 
side,’’ replied the soothsayer. 

Mardonius frowned. ^^Can you not tell us what 
it were best to do? If you can not I shall find a man 
who can.” 

‘^My lord,” replied Hegesistratus, have ex¬ 
amined closely the entrails of every sacrificial animal, 
and the signs are the same. Would you know the 
truth ? I am here to tell you, no matter what that truth 
may be.” 

Mardonius leaned forward clutching the table un¬ 
til the knuckles of his hands were white. ^‘Tell me, 
Hegesistratus, am I in imminent danger?” 

The seer turned his face slowly away and made no 
reply. 

Speak, dog, or your head will be forfeit!” cried 
the wrathful general. 

‘^Then if you must needs know,” responded the 
reluctant prophet, ^^you are in grave danger.” 

‘Hs there no hope?” asked Mardonius turning 
very pale. 

^‘All men pass through certain periods of danger 
and such a one is now imminent for you, my lord, but 
the time of no man’s death is absolutely fated and may¬ 
hap this crisis will pass!” 

^‘Depart and send Masistius to me at once,” said 
the leader in great agitation. 

A few moment later the tent folds parted, admit¬ 
ting the gigantic form of the cavalryman. The sight of 

[6i] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


the heroic figure seemed to cheer Mardonius, for in 
place of his customary tones of peremptory command, 
he spoke informally, even affectionately to the brave 
Persian. 

^^Masistius I have decided to delay no longer, for 
provisions are low. It is my wish that you lead the Per¬ 
sian cavalry in an offensive. We number three times 
the enemy, therefore why delay longer 

‘^All that a true soldier wants to know is that he 
understands his orders. Your slightest wish is a com¬ 
mand, Mardonius. I shall go at once.’’ 

‘‘You are a brave man, Masistius. Ask what you 
will after this encounter, and it shall be granted you. 
I will show Hegesistratus what little faith I put in his 
soothsaying! ’ ’ 

A few hours after this Masistius approached 
Zopyrus, calling him away from a group of soldiers 
with whom he was conversing. 

“Zopyrus, I go shortly to charge the enemy and 
if the gods will that I do not return, read this and obey 
its instructions. ” So saying he thrust into his friend’s 
hand a bit of parchment. A few seconds fraught with 
emotion and Masistius strode off to obey his superior’s 
orders. 

When the Athenians observed the approach of the 
Persian cavalry they descended to the plain below. 
Zopyrus stood, a tense figure, behind the barracks. His 
bosom swelled with pride as he watched the manly form 
of Masistius mounted on a black charger, likewise of 
huge proportions. 

“Now if I but knew the secret power of the 
maiden’s prayer! ’ ’ thought he. 

[62] 


MASISTIUS’ MESSAGE TO ZOPYRUS 


Riding rapidly at the head of the Greek cavalry 
was the Athenian Olympiodorus, a white steed bearing 
him to the scene of conflict. He was not a man of large 
frame, but his attitude of calm self-reliance and his 
military bearing gave promise to Masistius that here 
was an opponent worthy of the utmost exertion of 
belligerent mettle. On came the two principal antago¬ 
nists, the distance between them steadily decreasing. 
At last they met with a clash of weapons. 

The Greek was successful in parrying the stroke 
of the Persian. With exceptional agility he dodged 
now this way, now that, bringing to naught the superior 
strength of his antagonist. At length Olympiodorus 
began losing ground. His muscles were tiring under 
the continued strain of warding off his opponent's 
thrust. Just when it would seem that Masistius could 
make the final stab, another horseman rode up to the 
assistance of Olympiodorus. In this unequal conflict 

Masistius felt himself a loser. He wondered whv his 

%/ 

friends did not come to his aid, but was vaguely con¬ 
scious that they were busily engaged in battle. Still 
he labored on parrying each thrust till he relaxed in 
complete exhaustion and a second later fell as the 
sword of Olympidorus^ helper pierced his vitals. So 
perished Masistius, one of the bravest of Mardonius^ 
soldiers. 

'From his position behind the bulwarks, Zopyrus 
witnessed the death of his dearest friend. He stood 
for a moment as one in a stupor. His consciousness 
seemed gradually to weaken, flicker and die out, then 
a new spirt appeared to take hold of him and slowly 
gain predominance. After struggling for months with 

[63] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


indecision whicli was gradually destroying liis will¬ 
power, the right course for him to take became unques¬ 
tionably apparent. He realized that since the defeat 
at Salamis, Masistius had been the only bond that held 
him to the Persian despot whose many acts of atrocity 
he had viewed with growing aversion. The influence of 
his Greek mother had at last gained undeniable suprem¬ 
acy. She had taught him while it is manly to love one ^s 
country, it is God-like to love the world. 

It was a new Zopyrus who turned and with reso¬ 
lute steps sought the seclusion of his tent. With defer¬ 
ential fingers he touched the note which his departed 
friend had given him and perused it with eyes moist 
with unshed tears. It ran as follows: 

^‘To Zopyrus greetings — When you read this, my 
dear friend, you will know that I am no longer among 
the living. My one regret is that I can not carry out 
in the body that which I planned. Would it be asking 
too much of you, my friend and comrade, to undertake 
that which death makes impossible of accomplishment*? 
Do you remember the eve of the Theban’s banquet 
when you confessed to me that you loved a Greek 
maiden, whom you returned unharmed to her people? 
I did not then tell you that a somewhat similar experi¬ 
ence has been mine. But to make this clear to you, I 
must go back to that moment upon the Acropolis in 
Athens when Xerxes gave to you the girl whom Arta- 
bazus had seized. If you were not too busy with your 
own atfairs you will remember that after granting this 
maid to you, Xerxes then told Artabazus to take the 
other girl. I happened to be standing beside Artabazus 
at the time, and never shall I forget the agonized ex- 

[64] 


MASISTIUS’ MESSAGE TO ZOPYRUS 


pression upon the Greek maid^s face as she felt herself 
seized by the Persian. I understand and speak Greek 
but poorly, yet I knew what she said. Observing that 
I did not enter into the course jests of the other sol¬ 
diers, she pled with me to save her from Artabazus, a 
thing I would willingly have attempted had it been at 
all possible. 

The memory of her naturally fair face distorted in 
the agony of fear, haunted me and I resolved to at¬ 
tempt a rescue. I knew she was confined in a tent to 
the rear of that of Artabazus where a number of 
Persian women were kept under guard of a eunuch. I 
passed by the tent often that evening under pretext 
of official duty beyond. At last I was rewarded by the 
sight of a piece of parchment slipped under a fold of the 
tent. I placed my foot upon it while I looked about to 
be assured no one had witnessed the passing of the 
note which read: 

‘I am a prisoner in the harem of Artabazus. Can 
you save me? Artabazus has promised not to harm 
me till after the encounter between Greeks and Per¬ 
sians. This promise was wrung from him principally 
through the efforts of a jealous Persian woman who 
threatened my life. He and she made a compromise, 
the result of which was that I should be forced to sur¬ 
render myself to him immediately after the next con¬ 
flict regardless of which side came through victorious. 
If you can rescue me before the close of another battle, 
I will owe you a debt of gratitude which I can never 
repay—Ladice. ’ 

As you are aware, Zopyrus, this occurred at 
Phalerum, and since then Persians and Greeks have 

[65] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


not met in conflict until now. I have had other occa¬ 
sions during the ten months of our sojourn in Thessaly 
to secretly communicate with Ladice, and in each of 
her messages she has assured me of the strict manner 
in which his favorite mistress forces Artabazus to abide 
by his word. During this time I felt my heart under¬ 
going a change from pity to love for this Greek girl 
who was so dependent upon my mercy, and upon one 
occasion I grew bold enough to write in words my 
adoration and hopes for the future. Her answer the 
next day contained the happy news that my love was 
returned, and I planned on a rescue during the next 
conflict, stating that I believed our communications had 
better cease in order to decrease the possibility of fur¬ 
ther danger. She told me that she believed Paedime, 
the jealous paramour of Artabazus, had suspected the 
exchange of our notes, but realizing it to be to her 
advantage to allow Ladice to escape, she had main¬ 
tained a discreet silence. 

This then is the situation that I leave and that I 
trust my friend Zopyrus to take up where fate has 
forced me to leave it. May the good-Avill of Ahura- 
Mazdao follow you in all your efforts throughout life 
—Masistius.^’ 

The changed Zopyrus sat a moment buried in deep¬ 
est thought. Without he heard the noises which accom¬ 
pany preparation for battle. He hurried forth into 
the open. 

‘‘What are Mardonius’ orders?’^ he asked of the 
first soldier he saw. 

“Look for yourself,’^ cried the fellow excitedly, 
“and you will know what his orders must be.’’ 

[66] 


MASISTIUS’ MESSAGE TO ZOPYKUS 


Zopyrus turned his gaze to the slopes of Cithaeron 
and saw that the Greeks who had held back reservedly 
were now, emboldened by the death of a prominent 
opponent, pouring down the verdant hillside. The well- 
aimed arrows of the Persians, however, kept them at 
bay. 

Zopyrus spied several of the Persian leaders in 
heated argument. As he approached, the Theban, 
Timegenidas, was speaking. 

‘‘You know well, Mardonius, that their water sup¬ 
ply from the Asopus river is completely cut otf. Where 
are they able to get water 1 ^ ’ 

“I have just been informed,’^ replied the leader, 
“that they are getting water from a fountain called 
Gargaphia, yonder,’’ and he pointed to the east. “WTll 
you, Zopyrus, investigate this fountain? Take another 
man with you this very night and see if it will be pos¬ 
sible to till the fountain with dirt and stones. If we 
can do this we may well be sanguine of success. ’ ’ 

The commander turned to Artabazus. “Does the 
plan meet with your approval, Artabazus?” he asked. 

“Entirely, Mardonius. I am weary of warfare 
and only too glad to try any plan that may bring the 
quickest results.” 

To Zopyrus only did this remark have any special 
significance. He knew that Artabazus was thinking 
of the fair captive whom he was to possess as soon as 
the battle was over. 

“There,” cried Zopyrus, “the Greeks are retreat¬ 
ing. Our arrows have held them in check. At this time 
tomorrow there will be a surprise in store!” 

It was true. The Greeks were fleeing from the 

[67] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


open plain to the shady recesses of the mountain, there 
to rally for a renewed defense on the morrow. 

• •••••••••••••••* 

On the silken covers of a couch in a remote corner 
of the tent which was occupied by the women of the 
harem of Artabazus, lay the grief-stricken form of the 
Greek captive, Ladice. She had been informed of the 
death of Masistius, and with that realization had come 
also the awful knowledge that soon she would be the 
property of the Persian Artabazus, whose lewdness 
was the common talk of the camp. Her brows were 
delicately arched and her long lashes swept her cheeks 
meeting, the flush of color brought to her face as a 
result of hours of feverish weeping. Her hair, brown 
with a gleam of copper, hung over her partially bare 
shoulders. 

Hovering above her with contemptuous gaze, was 
the Persian girl, Phasdime, the reigning queen of 
Artabazus’ harem until the close of the battle of 
Platsea. Her full lips were twisted into a sneer, and 
there was a venomous light in the almond-shaped eyes 
of jet. Her blue-black hair was parted above a low 
white brow and hung in long, thick, glossy braids over 
her shoulders. 

^‘So your lover is dead!” she said tauntingly. 
‘‘You can not regret that fact more than I, for I had 
hoped to see him take you away from Artabazus, but 
Artabazus is mine, do you hear? Ho you think I can 
bear to see you in his arms? I have promised not to 
kill you, but I will try to assist you to escape if you 
can do so without these others knowing what I have 
done.” She indicated the other women in the tent. 

[68] 



MASISTIUS’ MESSAGE TO ZOPYRUS 


is impossible/^ sobbed Ladice. ^‘The eyes of 
that hideous eunuch are forever upon me and there are 
armed guards without. ’ ^ 

Phaedime bent over the prostrate form in a more 
menacing attitude. 

‘‘I believe you do not want to go/^ she said be¬ 
tween closed teeth, ^^but I will make it so unpleasant 
for you here that you will be glad to go even if suicide 
offers the only hope for escape. Mark my words well, 
for I make no idle threats!^’ With which words she 
left the unhappy Greek prisoner. 


[69] 


CHAPTER IX. 
The Rescue of Ladice. 


^ ^.Beyond the Theban plain 

Stretches to airy distance, till it seems 

Lifted in air,—green cornfields, olive groves 

Blue as their heaven, and lakes, and winding rivers. 

James Gates Percival. 


N '’ OW in the fitful lurid glow of a hundred camp¬ 
fires, now in the gloomy shadows of tents or 
— trees, Zopyrus crept stealthily toward the tent 
of Artabazus. It was approaching midnight, and with 
the exception of the occupants of Mardonius ^ tent, the 
Persians slept, many of them for the last time before 
their eternal rest. Less than fifteen minutes had 
elapsed since Zopyrus had quitted the tent of Mar¬ 
donius, leaving the Persian and Theban leaders in a 
heated discussion pertaining to the morrow’s battle. 
He felt assured that affairs of war would detain Arta¬ 
bazus for at least a half hour and possibly longer. The 
tent of Artabazus, though at no great distance from 
that of Mardonius, was difficult of access, and Zopyrus 
realized that his work must be accomplished not only 
swiftly, but silently as well. 

A guard walking back and forth before the en¬ 
trance to the women’s tent was the only living soul 
visible; his measured tread the only sound audible. 
Zopyrus stood like an inanimate object beside a low 

[70] 





THE RESCUE OF LADICE 


bush near the tent. He watched the guard for some 
time, studying the opportune moment to spring. Now 
the fellow’s march brought him so close to the hidden 
figure that the latter had but to reach forth his hand— 
A muffled cry of bewilderment, a brief struggle, a sup¬ 
pressed groan of agony, and Zopyrus leaped over the 
prostrate form and entered the tent of the women. 

The eunuch, a creature of repulsive form and 
malignant countenance, stood just within the entrance. 
The noise of the struggle, brief and silent though it 
was, had reached his ears. With the stealth and agility 
of a panther he approached and leaped upon his prey 
as the latter entered. With dagger raised aloft he 
would have dealt a fatal blow had not Phaedime with the 
strength of an Amazon, held his arm as it was about 
to descend. 

‘‘Wait, Amorges,” she cried, “do not harm this 
man till we learn his mission!” Turning to Zopyrus 
she said, “Speak stranger, what would you in the 
harem of Artabazus?” 

Zopyrus glanced quickly about him at the silken 
hangings richly broidered; at the heavy woven tapes¬ 
tries which adorned the sides of the tent; at panels 
composed of the variegated plumage of birds, and 
gloriously flashing jewels; the beautifully gowned 
women who surveyed him with unabashed curiosity, 
their shining black eyes flashing their appreciation of 
the unusual over the tops of fans of ostrich feathers. 
He turned again to Phaedime. 

‘ ‘ I seek one Ladice by name, a Greek girl brought 
here against her will. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘Just a moment, I will bring her. ’ ’ To the eunuch 

[71] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


she whispered aside, ‘‘I will fetch a gag. Do not touch 
him yet. ^ ’ 

She returned shortly with Ladice whose appear¬ 
ance of unutterable wretchedness wrung Zopyrus^ 
heart. 

‘^This officer says he has come to take you away, 
Ladice, ’ ^ said Phaedime giving a sidelong glance at the 
girl to observe her reception of the news. 

The Greek maiden took a step forward, gazing 
earnestly into Zopyrus’ face. ^^It is not he, no it is 
not he! But tell me he is not dead! ^ ^ 

Zopyrus spoke gently, must confirm the ill 
news, fair maiden. Masistius died heroically on the 
field of battle and I am to succeed him in an attempt to 
rescue you. ^ ^ 

Amorges and Paedime exchanged glances, the 
former intimating by a nod that it was time to produce 
the gag, but Phaedime still hesitated, for the girl, 
Ladice, flung herself with a sob at Zopyrus^ feet. 

^ ‘ It can T be true, ’ ^ she cried, ^ ‘ I loved him and he 
promised to return, oh tell me it isnT true!^^ 

Zopyrus gazed with compassion into the tear- 
stained face as he replied: ‘‘It is indeed true, but tell 
me, do you really wish to escape from the clutches of 
A rtabazus! ^ ’ 

The girl glanced furtively about her in-horror as 
if she expected to see the odious form conjured before 
her at the mention of his name. 

“Yes, I will do anything to escape from him and 

if-but her words were cut short bv a muffled 

cry of terror. 

Phaedime had seized the eunuch and forced the gag 

[72] 



THE RESCUE OF LADICE 


into his mouth. ‘^Come, help me bind himF^ she 
called loudly to Zopyrus. 

It was the work of a few moments, and when they 
were finished, poor Amorges lay in one corner of the 
tent, prone and helpless. 

^^You may depend upon me to help you in this 
project,’’ Phgedime said to Zopyrus. ‘‘It is necessary 
to lay bare to you the secrets of a woman’s heart. I 
love Artabazus, and in his affections I have held first 
place till this Greek girl,” (here she cast a scornful 
glance at Ladice), “was brought here, and after this 
battle was fought she would have been his. You see 
it is to my interest to get her away and to that end I 
will lend you my assistance. Perhaps we had better 
kill the eunuch to be assured of our safety. What say 
you?” 

Amorges’ eyes fairly started out of their sockets 
as the two approached. Seeing that the threat had 
proved effectual, Phaedime spurned the defenceless 
body with her foot and asked: “Will you intimate to 
Artabazus upon his return that violence was done you 
by the soldier who rescued Ladice, and that I tried 
to help you?” 

The wretched fellow indicated affirmation as well 
as his bonds permitted and Phaedime turned to Zopyrus 
and Ladice. 

,“Now go and may success crown your efforts.” 

“Before we go,” said Zopyrus to Ladice, “you 
must don this garb to facilitate our escape.” 

He held out to her a bundle of dark clothing. The 
girl withdrew to an adjoining chamber and soon ap¬ 
peared in the uniform of a Persian foot-soldier. 

[73] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


‘^Your disguise is excellent,’’ exclaimed Zopyrus 
delightedly, ^^now let us hasten,” and with a brief ex¬ 
pression of gratitude to Phaedime for her share in the 
escape, he and Ladice took a hasty departure. 

Only the glowing embers of camp-fires remained. 
The flickering deceptive shadows that had annoyed 
Zopyrus in his approach to the harem-tent had dis¬ 
appeared, and in their stead the encampment lay 
around the fugitives in the tranquil light of a full moon, 
the white tents gleaming like snow-covered hillocks. 
Already the Persian felt that this omen presaged suc¬ 
cess. They threaded the narrow alleys which sepa¬ 
rated the tents in silence so as not to betray their pres¬ 
ence, and arrived without mishap at an intersection 
of alleys, about thirty yards from the tent of Mar- 
donius. 

^^Let us turn to the left here,” whispered Zopyrus, 
‘‘and thus avoid passing Mardonius’ tent.” 

Scarcely had the words escaped his lips when the 
sound of footsteps and low talking broke the silence. 

‘‘What is your hurry? Why will you not abide 
the night with Mardonius till we decide whether or not 
it is advisable to attempt to cut otf the Greek reinforce¬ 
ments?” questioned the voice of Asopodorus. 

Then to the horror of the fugitives, the voice of 
Artabazus made answer. 

“Tomorrow will be time enough for that. I am 
weary of consultations of war, and who knows if I be 
living tomorrow at this time! I have a fair Greek cap¬ 
tive who will this night help me to forget the dangers 
of the morrow, and to her I now go despite my promises 
to await the close of battle.” 


[74] 


THE EESCUE OF LADICE 


It was now too late to turn without arousing the 
suspicion of the approaching Artabazus. Zopvrus 
could feel the trembling hand of the girl upon his arm. 

‘‘Have courage,^’ he whispered, “and say not a 
word. ^ ^ 

Artabazus’ features expressed surprise at meet¬ 
ing anyone at this time of the night. 

“Well if it isn’t Zopyrus! Have you turned som¬ 
nambulist?” he asked jocosely, but with a hint of mis¬ 
trust in his voice. 

“You forget, Artabazus, the task I am this night 
to perform at the fountain of Gargaphia. By the time 
I reach its vicinity the moon will be low. ’ ’ 

“To be sure I remember now, but whom have you 
with you?” questioned the officer curiously. 

“Mardonius bade me take a man with me, and this 
youth wished to go, ’ ’ replied Zopyrus with an air of in¬ 
difference. 

Artabazus looked disapprovingly at the slight 
figure of the foot-soldier. 

“He doesn’t look very capable,” he remarked. 

“Nevertheless he is courageous, and though young, 
I decided to try him out. ’ ’ 

“What is your name?” asked Artabazus of the 
silent figure. 

The question took Zopyrus completely by surprise, 
but with joy he observed that Ladice maintained dis¬ 
creet silence. 

“His name is Ladisius,” answered Zopyrus, “and 
now if you will permit, we must be on our way, for a 
great deal depends upon this mission.” 

As soon as Artabazus was out of hearing, Zopyrus 

[75] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


said to his companion. ‘^That was indeed a narrow 
escape and now we must hasten with all possible speed, 
for Artabazus will begin pursuit as soon as he learns 
of your escape. 

‘^Halt! Give the password, demanded the sen¬ 
try at the edge of the encampment. 

Zopyrus easily made known his identity to the sen- 
tinal who was apprised of his mission to Gargaphia. 
Once beyond the confines of the camp the two breathed 
more freely. The soft breeze which fanned their 
cheeks was laden with the vernal odors of field and 
forest. The meadows through which they sped, were 
dotted with field lilies and asphodel, myriads of them, 
their white blossoms gleaming from the grass like the 
stars from the heavens till it seemed to the fugitives 
that in their flight earth and sky had changed places and 
that they trod the milky-way. 

^‘How far is it to the fountain of Gargaphia?’^ 
asked Ladice after they had gone for some time in 
silence. 

Zopyrus paused a moment, scanning his compan¬ 
ion’s face to ascertain whether or not she had put her 
question seriously. Assured that she was in earnest, 
he continued his pace, talking the while. 

‘^You are not with a Persian soldier as you sup¬ 
pose, my little friend. Zopyrus, the Persian, ceased to 
exist when he witnessed the death of his comrade, 
Masistius. My father was a Persian, satrap of Sardis, 
my mother a Greek whose parents were Athenians, 
My environment forced me to don uniform and follow 
the Persian king, but the natural heritage from my 
mother, and her early tutelage, caused my soul to cry 

[76] 


THE RESCUE OF LADICE 


out continually against the actions of my body. For 
months I was a prey of weakness and indecision. My 
every act was accomplished after agonizing periods of 
vacillation. My will-power was being destroyed and 
though cognizant of the fact, I seemed powerless to 
retrieve the volition I once possessed. With the death 
of Masistius all bonds of honor with the Persians 
seemed severed, and I pledged myself to save Athens 
if it were not already too late. If I seem a traitor in 
your eyes, judge me not too harshly. Gold is not my 
motive, for I shall be poorer for this choice I have 
made; safety is no object, for I intend to make atone¬ 
ment by wielding the sword in the Greek cause. Have 
I convinced you, fair maid, that my incentives are pure, 
and that I do well to allow this determination to super¬ 
cede my former hesitancy P’ 

He was satisfied with her ready nod of assent. At 
last they reached the entrance to Oak Heads pass, by 
which means they would be enabled to cross Mt. 
Cithaeron. Their progress was greatly impeded by the 
dense tangle of underbrush. The branches of trees 
met overhead, forming a canopy of foliage so thick that 
the moon^s beams could not penetrate. For hours the 
crackling of twigs underfoot, and an occasional hoot 
from some night-owl were the only sounds that dis¬ 
turbed the tranquility of the night. 

Suddenly Ladice stopped and asked abruptly: 
^^Hid vou hear thatP^ 

^^Yes,’^ replied her companion, heard a slight 
sound, but I think it is a prowling beast on some noc¬ 
turnal journey. Stay close and keep your hand upon 
your dagger for you may have to use it.’’ 

[77] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Scarcely had he ceased to speak before a command 
in Greek was given to halt and give the password. 
Before Ladice could realize what had happened, she 
heard the sounds of struggle. Her eyes, accustomed to 
the darkness, could faintly discern the gleam of 
weapons, but she dared not strike for she could not dis¬ 
tinguish between the antagonists. She soon realized 
that they were not fighting near her, and a sudden fear 
seized her; they might miss their footing and slip over 
the edge of the declivity! She decided to raise her 
voice in warning, when the unmistakable sound of 
breaking twigs and loosened stones rolling down the 
precipice, convinced her that her worst fears were an 
actuality. Stunned with horror she stood for some 
time unable to decide what to do. At last dreading that 
Artabazus might by now be well on his way in pursuit 
of her, she pressed on in an agony of fear. The foliage 
was now a little thinner and she could see the first faint 
glow of dawn in the sky. Her physical progress was 
more rapid, but mentally she was stupified by the hor¬ 
ror of her rescuer’s fate, and she did not hear the 
sounds of approaching footsteps till they were imme¬ 
diately behind her. 

Her first expression was one of relief that her pur¬ 
suer was not Artabazus, but she observed with chagrin 
that he wore a Greek uniform. Raising her eyes half 
fearfully to his face she uttered an exclamation of joy. 
It was Zopyrus! 

‘H am glad I did not have to kill the fellow to get 
this uniform, for I am a Greek. His neck was broken 
in the fall and as for me—” he pointed to his right 

[78] 


THE EESCUE OF LADICE 


arm which hung useless by his side, ‘‘I’m afraid I shall 
not be of much service to Greece!” 

Ladice opened her knapsack and tore from her 
dress a strip with which she dexterously bandaged the 
broken member. This done, she discarded the Persian 
uniform for the torn dress and together they descended 
the southern slope of Mt. CithaBron as the roseate hues 
of morning gradually melted away into bright day¬ 
light. 


[79] 


CHAPTER X. 

A Ventuee At the Eve of Battle. 

There nature moulds as nobly now, 

As e’er of old, the human brow; 

And copies still the martial form 
That braved 'Plataea’s battle storm.” 

William Cullen Bryant. 

A RTABAZUS’ steps were directed to the tent of 
the women. With heavy tread he strode in the 
panoply of war. At the corner of the tent his 
foot came in rough contact with a soft object and to his 
amazement he discovered it to be the body of his 
guard. A hasty examination assured him that the body 
was lifeless. Filled with forebodings, he hastily parted 
the flaps and gazed within the tent. His eyes first fell 
upon the prostrate form of his eunuch, then with a 
swift glance he surveyed the women, and he knew what 
had taken place during his absence. 

White with fury he cried, ‘‘Where is the Greek 
girl? ’ ’ 

His appearance in his wrathful state was so for¬ 
bidding that not one of the women ventured to make 
reply. Upon receiving no response, Artabazus turned 
to Phaedime, whereupon his favorite, with an assump¬ 
tion of her usual self assurance, made bold to answer. 

“A Persian officer killed the guard, bound 
Amorges here, and bore Ladice away with him. Is it 

[8o] 


A VENTURE AT THE EVE OF BATTLE 


not sol’^ Phgedime turned to her fair companions to 
confirm her words, confident in her position as favorite. 

All readily affirmed the escape as stated by 
Phaedime with the exception of a small oval-faced 
beauty with shining black hair and ruddy lips, that 
would not refuse to smile at her master even in his 
state of demoniac anger. 

‘‘What say you, ParysatisT’ questioned the offi¬ 
cer, noting her refusal to corroborate Phasdime ^s words. 

“If my master would know the truth,smiled 
Parysatis, “Phaedime herself allowed the Greek girl to 
be taken away.’^ 

An ominous silence of horror pervaded the tent 
for a moment while all eyes were turned to Artabazus, 
who in livid rage seized the hapless Phaedime. 

“You are hurting me,’^ she cried in abject terror. 
Can you not know that what I did was because of love 
for you? Oh, my Artabazus, if you but commanded it, 
I would crawl from here to the Hellespont, where I 
long to cross with you back to the land where we meet 
no Greeks either in warfare or in love. 

The Persian commander laughed wildly, a laugh 
that froze the blood in the veins of his hearers. “You 
will never cross the Hellespont nor even leave this tent 
alive! ^ ’ 

There was a flash of gleaming steel, a hissing 
sound, and the headless trunk of the Persian beauty 
sank before its murderer. 


During the time that Zopyrus and Ladice made 
good their escape from the Persian encampment and 
were beginning to pursue their precarious way across 

[8i] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Mt. Cithseron, the Greek encampment lay in the stillness 
of sleep. Above the tents rose the gentle, picturesque 
slope of the mountain, where beyond the space which 
had been cleared, the forest stretched in black silence. 

In one of the tents well toward the forest edge of 
the encampment, three young men sat around a small 
table upon which a candle sent forth its flickering light. 
Presently one of them arose with an impatient gesture 
and strode back and forth with restless energy. 

‘‘What ails you, Cimonr^ questioned one of the 
two who were seated. He was a thin wiry fellow, whose 
face showed the tan of continued exposure to the 
elements. His nose was acquiline, his lips thin and 
his eye penetrating, but withal, kindly. 

“Nothing new, Icetes, but before tomorrow's bat¬ 
tle I should like to know if Ladice is confined in the 
harem of one of the Persian leaders as I have heard. 

“Wait till the battle is over, and if Zeus grants 
us the victory, demand the return of the girl. The 
harems of the Persians will be ours then, and to such 
a brave soldier as you have proved yourself to be, 
Pausanias will gladly give first choice of the spoils,’^ 
said Icetes, rising from his chair and placing a friendly 
hand upon the other’s shoulder. 

Cimon smiled wanly. ‘ ‘ Perhaps you are right, my 
friend,^’ he acquiesced “but you can not know how I 
suffer! Has Eros never found you vulnerable hereT’ 
Cimon placed both hands upon his heart and smiled 
with a questioning glance at Icetes. 

“If Eros has ever found him so, it was not for 
the love of a maiden who possesses a heart of stone as 
does this Ladice whom you adore, ’ ^ remarked the third 

[82] 


A VENTURE AT THE EVE OF BATTLE 

youth who up till the present moment had remained a 
silent observing listener. 

^ ‘ Be still, Ephialtes, ’ ’ said Icetes gruffly. ‘ ^ Cimon 
suffers enough without your reproaches.^’ 

‘‘Let him suffer,” said the youth indifferently. 
“If he wants her badly enough let him go to the Per¬ 
sian encampment and get her! He does not know nor 
do you, Icetes, what the result of tomorrow’s struggle 
will be. What if the enemy comes out victorious and 
the Persian leader carries the fair Ladice across the 
Hellespont? No doubt she has already yielded to his 
kisses and is beginning to enjoy the luxurious ease of 
an oriental harem. Women are —” 

With an oath Cimon rushed at Ephialtes, but 
Icetes interposed himself. 

“My friends,” he pled in a hoarse whisper, “your 
altercation will be heard by Pausanias himself. Let us 
sit down quietly again and maybe we can arrive at a 
definite conclusion.” 

Icetes and Ephialtes seated themselves, but Cimon 
began to put on his armor piece by piece till he stood 
before them fully armed. They watched him wonder- 
ingly but ventured no inquiry. Then he strode toward 
the entrance and turning to face them, said, “I am 
going to find Ladice and bring her back. ’ ’ 

Ephialtes smiled in a contemptuous manner, but 
Icetes was on his feet in an instant. 

“By Zeus,” he cried, “you shall not attempt such 
a rash undertaking. You, the son of the brave 
Miltiades, are needed for the morrow’s battle. Your 
counsel and advice are indispensable. Next to Pausan¬ 
ias we need you, just yoUj to show these barbarians 

[83] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


that they cait no longer abide within our borders. 
Think of it, my brave Cimon, Mardonius killed and 
the other leaders routed at Platasa! Make it the last 
battle of the last war with them! Don’t leave us at 
this critical period to satisfy a personal longing. Your 
father did that, Cimon, but not till he had fought 
Marathon!” 

The words of Icetes had an enervating effect upon 
Cimon. He drooped perceptibly and then slowly he 
began to disarm. When the last piece of armor had 
been cast aside, he dropped into his chair again, and 
folding his arms upon the table, buried his face in them. 
His broad shoulders heaved, and in the silence that 
followed, an occasional groan was heard. Even 
Ephialtes’ supercilious air left him in the presence of 
this real grief of a fellow-man. 

Cimon’s agony was too much for the kind-hearted 
Icetes. Eising and bending above the bowed form of 
the son of Miltiades, Icetes said in earnest tones. ‘^Let 
me go this night and search for Ladice. I am ac¬ 
quainted with her father, Mamercus, who as you know 
perished at Salamis, probably unkno^vn to his daughter 
who will now be alone if she returns to Athens,” 

Cimon made a sign of remonstrance before he was 
able to speak. ^^No, my friend,” he said, when he had 
found voice, can not think of endangering the life 
of another in the performance of a task which concerns 
me so personally. I will give up what you consider 
a foolish enterprise, but I fear I have lost the zest for 
the morrow’s battle.” 

will go for you Cimon,” Icetes cried eagerly, as 
he went for his armor, ^^My part in tomorrow’s con- 

184] 


A VENTUKE AT THE EVE OF BATTLE 


flict will be indirect, but it will be a vital part neverthe¬ 
less. If by putting heart in you through this service, 
I thus enable you to fight bravely tomorrow, I shall 
indeed feel that I have helped to expel the Persians 
from Greece.^’ 

Cimon saw that opposition was useless. His eyes 
met for an instant the ironical gaze of Ephialtes. 

‘‘I imagine that rendering a real service to a 
fellow-man is quite foreign to your nature, Ephialtes,’^ 
Cimon could not resist saying. 

^^On the contrary,’^ replied the young Greek un- 
rufiled, recently rendered a very great service to a 
very illustrious person. 

‘^And no doubt you were handsomely paid for 
your efforts, the agreement having been made before 
hand,^’ answered Cimon as he rose to bid farewell to 
Icetes who stood ready to take his leave. 

The sight of the brave fellow clad in the panoply 
of war, about to risk his life for a friend, moved Cimon 
deeply. Words seemed inadequate to convey the grati¬ 
tude he felt. The two parted after a warm embrace. 


[85] 


CHAPTER XL , 

A Hero op Plat^ea. 

^‘Here where the Persian clarion rung, 

And where the Spartan sword flashed high, 

And where the Paean strains were sung. 

From year to year swelled on by liberty 

Felicia Hemans. 

T he market-place of Plataea was the scene of re¬ 
joicing over the victory of the Spartans. 
Pausanias, the Spartan leader, nephew of the 
brave Leonidas, conducted solemn sacrificial services. 

Their victory had seemed almost a miracle, for the 
Athenians and Spartans had begun a retreat to an 
island formed by two forks of the river Oeroe. The 
Persians, when they saw that the Greeks were retreat¬ 
ing, pursued them. The Athenians were ahead, and 
the Spartans being behind were overtaken by the dis¬ 
orderly Persian horde. The Athenians learning of the 
encounter, decided to return to the assistance of their 
allies, but were attacked by the Thebans before they 
could act upon their decision. From behind the breast¬ 
work of shields the Persians shot their arrows bravely, 
and for awhile the outcome was doubtful but Pausanias 
and his brave Spartans succeeded in killing Mardonius. 
With their leader dead, the Persians lost their fervor 
and fled in disorder. 


[ 86 ] 


A HERO OP PLAT^A 


In the meanwhile the encounter between the 
Athenians and Thebans became more serious. When 
the battle had reached its crisis, both the Athenians 
and the Thebans observed a tall figure in the garb of 
a Greek soldier fighting amid the Thebans like a fiend, 
and what amazed the Greeks most was that he fought 
with his left arm only, the other being supported by a 
bandage which hung from his shoulder. He seemed to 
bear a charmed life. Before his sword the Thebans 
fell, and the Athenians pressing around him were able 
to work havoc in his wake. 

Suddenly a Theban sprang in front of the one- 
armed fighting warrior and cried as he crossed swords 
with him, swear you are the Persian with whom I 
dined and exchanged confidences at the feast of 
Attaginus. You shall pay for your treason with your 
life.^’ 

The other smiled grimly but said not a word as 
he entered into the encounter, and before long this 
antagonist like the others, lay with the point of the 
Athenian’s sword at his throat. 

‘‘Now Thersander,” cried the victorious one, “do 
you surrender to Zopyrus the Athenian, or do you meet 
death at his sword 1 ’ ’ 

The Theban surrendered as had many another of 
his countrymen on that day, and history tells us that 
among the captives was Attaginus, the only one of the 
number who succeeded later in making his escape. The 
wicked Artabazus instead of coming to the aid of the 
Persians after Mardonius fell, fled with his troops 
through Phocis to Thessaly, Macedonia and the Helles¬ 
pont, and the fair Parysatis accompanied him. 

[87] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


So it was no wonder that Plataea was the scene of 
much rejoicing upon this occasion. Pausanias, though 
enthusiastically lauded by both Spartans and Athe¬ 
nians, did not accept the great honor bestowed upon 
him alone. He said that if he were the hero of the 
Spartans over the Persians, so likewise was the 
stranger who fought with but one arm, the hero of the 
Athenians over the Thebans. When asked who he was, 
Zopyrus merely stated that he was a loyal Athenian 
who had been away from Athens for a number of years, 
which statement he could make without distorting the 
truth. 

Pausanias stood surrounded by the booty acquired 
in the victory over Mardonius. The vast cables of 
papyrus which had composed the bridge of Xerxes 
when he first crossed the Hellespont, were here dis¬ 
played; likewise the silver-footed throne and the ci- 
meter of Mardonius and the sword and breastplate of 
Masistius. 

Many beautiful women who had been in the harems 
of the Persian leaders were either sold or given to 
those who had displayed exceptional bravery. Of these 
Zopyrus was offered first choice, but to Pausanias ^ sur¬ 
prise he politely declined. Stepping over to the pile 
where were stacked the swords, breastplates, shields, 
helmets and smaller articles of pillage, Zopyrus drew 
forth the sword of Masistius and made the statement 
that this would be a most acceptable portion of the 
spoils to him. The Greeks wondered at his choice, 
but no one made so bold as to question him concern¬ 
ing it. 

As Zopyrus was about to leave the market-place 
someone placed a detaining hand upon his shoulder. 

[88] 


A HERO OF PLATJ^A 


Turning, the former looked into the face of a young 
man of about his own height and physique but a few 
years his senior, who smilingly offered his hand. 

‘‘I wish to commend you for your bravery in the 
recent battle and to welcome you back to Athens, as 
I understand you have not been there for some years 
past. I am Cimon, and this,^^ he indicated a slender 
man by his side, ‘‘is Polygnotus, an artist of no mean 
reputation. We are both residing in Athens and shall 
he glad to have you meet others of our friends in the 
city. ’ ’ 

Zopyrus was greatly pleased. From the handsome 
countenance of Cimon he turned to look at the ar¬ 
tist, Polygnotus. Although in Greek military dress, 
Polygnotus did not appear a soldier. His features 
were thin, almost delicate, his nose aquiline and his 
mouth super-sensitive. His hair of light brown, very 
smooth and straight, was dressed on- the prevailing 
style with the braids crossed at the back of the head 
and fastened in front. His eyes were searching and 
possessed a mild lustre indicative of a fine degree of 
intellectuality and a broad sympathetic understanding 
of his fellow men. Zopyrus recognized in him at once 
a kindred mind. 

“As you no doubt know,’’ said the artist, “our 
homes are in ashes but we are returning to rebuild 
them, determined to lose no time in mourning our 
losses, but rejoicing that the enemy is forever ex¬ 
pelled.” 

Cimon had turned away and with another soldier 
sought the platform where beautiful women, many of 
them Greeks, stood exposed to the rude gaze of the 

[89] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


soldiery. Zopyrus^ eyes followed the retreating form 
of Cimon and a question arose to his lips which was 
anticipated by the quiet Polygnotus who said: ^^You 
wonder at Cimon ^s interest in the women and I can 
assure you his motives are pure. He is searching for 
the girl he loves who was taken captive by one of the 
Persian leaders and confined in his harem. ’ ^ 

‘^What was her name?’’ asked Zopyrus tensely. 

^‘Ladice,” was the anticipated, but at the same 
time astounding reply. 

^ ‘ The maiden has been rescued from the harem of 
Artabazus,” said Zopyrus quietly. 

^^Are you absolutely certain?” cried the artist 
incredulously. 

At the other’s nod he cried, ‘^Come with me, I 
must inform Cimon of this.” 

Cimon saw the two approaching and hastened for¬ 
ward to join them with the words: ‘^Ladice is not 
among the captive women, so it is reasonable to believe 
that Icetes effected a rescue.” 

‘‘The stranger can confirm our hopes,” said 
Polygnotus. “He has told me that Ladice was rescued 
from the harem of a certain Artabazus.” 

Cimon turned to Zopyrus, his face white with the 
effort to conceal the agony of suspense. 

“Is she now on her way to Athens with her res¬ 
cuer ? ” he asked tensely. 

“I do not quite understand you,” replied Zopyrus. 

‘ ‘ T, myself rescued an Athenian maiden by the name of 
[jadice from the tent of Artabazus. I conducted her in 
safety across Oak Heads Pass. She then suggested 
that I go to the Greek encampment on Mt. Cithseron, 

[90] 


A HERO OF PLAT^A 


insisting she could make her way alone to friends in 
safety since she was away from the Persians. 

‘‘Zeus is mercifulexclaimed the overwrought 
Cimon, “but tell me saw you aught of a soldier while 
you were crossing Oak Heads Pass? You must have 
met him a little this side of the summit. It was he 
whom I thought had delivered Ladice from the hands 
of the Persian. 

The face of Zopyrus grew deathly pale at Cimon ^s 
words. 

“Alas!’’ he cried, “I did meet a soldier on Oak 
Heads Pass who took me for an enemy without a 
chance for explanation. We fought together, and in 
the dark we missed our footing and rolled down a 
steep embankment. I sustained this broken arm,” he 
pointed to the sling which supported the broken mem¬ 
ber, “but my unknown antagonist was killed.” 

“Oh my poor Icetes!” cried Cimon greatly dis¬ 
traught. “To think that you met your fate thus, an-^l 
for me!” 

Polygnotus touched his friend’s arm srpupv- 
“Icetes would probably have lost his life in the 
for he was very daring. His was a noble thouQ^h 
less sacrifice, but let us rejoice that Ladice has 
saved. You owe much to our new friend.” 

“I am truly grateful, Zopyrus,” sai 
grasping the hand of the other, “but how ^li^l vo^^ 
to rescue the girl whom I love?” 

There was a note of distrust in his vo’*'"^ ' 

he strove to conceal it. 

“That is a long story that I will tell you ^ 
other time,” replied Zopyrus. 

[91] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


As the three walked away from the public square, 
Cimon placed an arm across the shoulder of Zopyrus, 
for he was involuntarily drawn toward this attractive 
stranger, in spite of his former suspicions. But Zopy¬ 
rus was pained by his own duplicity as he thought of 
how recently he had been in Persian uniform. When 
he would tell his new friend ‘‘the long story, some other 
time,^^ his conscience would be clear, but for the pres¬ 
ent it hurt him to realize that Cimon’s arm had been 
laid in brotherly affection upon that same uniform, 
when not he, but the dead Icetes, had worn it. 


[ 92 ] 


CHAPTER XII. 

The Prophet At Delphi. 

There is but one such spot; from heaven Apollo 
Beheld; and chose it for his earthly shrine!’’ 

Aubrey de Vere. 

I NSTEAD of returning immediately to Athens, fol¬ 
lowing the expulsion of the Persians, Zopyrus and 
his new-found friend, Cimon, turned their faces 
northward. Tempted by the beauty of the starry nights 
and the absence of wayfarers, the two usually jour¬ 
neyed after the golden orb of the sun had disappeared 
beyond the watery horizon of the Corinthian Gulf. 
Along this road that skirted the gulf, the hordes of 
Xerxes had marched. 

The contrast between his journey southward and 
northward filled Zopyrus ^ heart with stirring emotions, 
and in the dewy silence of the nights that followed their 
departure from Plataea, Zopyrus revealed to Cimon 
his peculiar identity and laid bare to this sympathetic 
friend the emotions that had at first stirred and finally 
swayed his soul from the time that he had left his 
native Sardis up to the present moment. 

Cimon was a sympathetic and wondering listener. 
This young man’s experiences were so antipodal to his 
own that they interested him exceedingly. A week 
passed in this pleasant exchange of ideas and 

[ 93 ] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


confidences until toward sundown of the eighth day, the 
purple crown of Mt. Helicon loomed in the distance 
and the two knew that in another day their journey 
would be completed. 

do not believe that Melpomene sits alone on 
Mt. Parnassus now,’^ remarked Zopyrus meditatively, 
more to himself than to his companion, as the two 
caught their first glimpse of the lofty dwelling place of 
the Muses. 

‘^What did you say!^^ asked Cimon, puzzled. 

replied the other with a short laugh to 
cover his confusion, was just giving expression to 
an extremely fanciful idea that occurred to me when 
I passed through this gorge on my way to Athens. I 
imagined that surely in the face of an invading foe, 
no Muse but the sorrowful Melpomene could occupy 
yonder height.’’ 

^‘You were surely mistaken, friend Zopyrus,” said 
the other with a seriousness that proved how highly 
he esteemed this young man’s opinions. Would not 
Clio, for instance, have been there to record events that 
will go down in history, and surely you can not imagine 
that Callio was in hiding when Aeschylus wrote his in¬ 
spired verse so soon after the victory of Salamis! 
Aye, and Thalia too, had a vision of the future and 
knew that ere a year had passed, two friends, one who 
had helped in his infinitesimal way to swell the ranks 
of Xerxes, and one who, insignificant as compared with 
the many heroes of Hellas, would pass together in 
the bond of a lasting friendship beneath her very 
abode! I do not believe that any of the Muses or any 
of the gods ever desert mortals, hut we finite beings 

[ 94 ] 


THE PROPHET AT DELPHI 


are incapable of comprehending their plan for us in 
the process of its unfolding.’’ 

Zopyrus thought of the monotheistic belief of the 
Hellenic maiden whose act of supplication he had wit¬ 
nessed on the promontory overlooking the Bay of 
Salamis, but he said nothing, for he had an inner feel¬ 
ing that the stalwart, aristocratic Greek who walked 
beside him was as yet unready for a belief in but one 
ruling Divinity. That he loved the deities of Greece 
was evident from the rapt gaze which he now turned to 
the lofty summit of Mt. Parnassus. Was he aware 
that there were Greeks of the purest blood who were 
turning from the ancient gods and exalting Zeus appar¬ 
ently out of all due proportion? Strange emotions 
filled Zopyrus’ heart, for he too marveled at the 
thought that belief in the gods might no longer sway 
the destinies of the Greeks. 

The two young men perceived that the road turned 
away from the water-side and zig-zagged across a pic¬ 
turesque ridge. It was now broad daylight and they 
met occasional pedestrians who were returning from 
consultations with the oracle of Apollo. What sor¬ 
rows and ambitions, what joys or what despair were 
locked in the heart of each one? Very likely these 
travelers had sought the oracle upon personal matters 
since their national crisis had so recently passed to 
their great advantage. Here an old man with slow and 
feeble steps probably wished to know the time yet 
allotted to him upon earth; there a mother with anxious 
care-worn countenance whose boy had not yet returned 
from Plataea, and beside her a young wife whose hus¬ 
band might have perished on the field of battle. 

[ 95 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Oimon and Zopyrus did not stop to converse with 
any of the wayfarers for they desired to return to 
Athens as quickly as possible after their interview 
with the Pythoness. Presently they found themselves 
in a rugged and romantic glen, closed on the north by 
the wall-like cliffs of Mt. Parnassus, on the east by a 
ridge similar to the one they had just crossed, and on 
the south by the irregular heights of Mt. Kirphis, and 
in this glen stood a simple Ionic temple surrounded 
by many smaller buildings; the treasuries of various 
cities and islands of Greece. Their outlines were 
softened by vines and shrubbery in abundance. The 
tall trees and towering crags of the mount of the Muses 
allowed the entrance of only such sunlight as filtered 
through the less leafy trees. The air was cool and 
laden with the dank odor of growing things. 

The two suppliants at the shrine of Apollo, after 
passing by the treasury of Thebes, approached that 
of Athens which was a beautiful little Doric temple of 
Parian marble, containing and partly built from the 
spoils of the battle of Marathon. Cimon paused to read 
an inscription engraved on a low parapet that sup¬ 
ported armor captured from the Persians in that great 
battle. His heart swelled with pride at the conscious¬ 
ness that it was his father who had so successfully 
routed the Persians on the plain of Marathon. He ven¬ 
tured a glance at Zopyrus and was convinced that a 
loyal Greek stood by his side. 

The long low edifice just beyond the Treasury of 
the Athenians was the Bouleuterion above which rose 
a rough mass of rock, the Rock of the Sibyl. A priest 
of Apollo at the entrance of the Bouleuterion gave 

[96] 


THE PROPHET AT DELPHI 


each of the young men a wax tablet and stylus with 
which it was intended that he write the question that 
he wished answered by the Sibyl whose duty it was to 
make known the will of the god whose organ of inspira¬ 
tion she was. The question that appeared on the tab¬ 
let of each was the same; Shall I win the maiden I 
loveT^ The priest took the tablets and withdrew to 
the rock where the priestess, a virgin clad in white, 
having chewed the leaves of the sacred laurel and 
drunk from the prophetic underground stream, Kas- 
sotis, sat upon a tripod above a fissure in the rock from 
which a mystic vapor arose by which she soon became 
inspired. Her mutterings and ravings were inter¬ 
preted by the priest who wrote them below the ques¬ 
tions in verse. 

As was customary the men did not remain near 
during the trance of the medium, but sought the Cas- 
talian Fountain which was east of the sacred precinct 
at the head of a wild and picturesque gorge. The foun¬ 
tain was in front of a smooth face of rock, the water 
issuing from a rock at the right and being carried 
through a channel to an opening at the extreme left. 

Cimon and Zopyrus seated themselves beneath a 
plane tree and surveyed with delight their romantic 
surroundings. It was no wonder Apollo had here 
chosen a location for one of his shrines! The very 
breeze which brushed against their cheeks was like the 
breath of unseen spirits. The leaves of the plane trees 
whispered unintelligible secrets and the mountain 
stream murmured of mysteries as it moved majestic¬ 
ally onward. 

Suddenly the two became aware of a figure seated 

[ 97 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


near the edge of the fountain nearly within touch of 
its cooling spray. It proved upon closer observation 
to be that of an old man with wrinkled countenance and 
long flowing beard. From under his shaggy brows he 
had surveyed the new-comers with searching eyes. His 
hands were folded across the head of a knotty walking- 
stick. Cimon, the true Greek, to whom goodness and 
purity were synonymous with outward beauty, turned 
away from the unlovely figure of the old man with an 
exclamation of annoyance, signifying that he disliked 
having the lovliness of the scene marred by the pres¬ 
ence of the elderly stranger. But Zopyrus was differ¬ 
ently affected by the sight of the aged one. Some¬ 
thing vaguely familiar in the t3rpe of features held his 
gaze. 

The old man continued to survey the two new¬ 
comers with a penetrating gaze till Cimon stood up 
abruptly and said to Zopyrus: ^^Our answers must be 
ready. Let us return to the rock of the Sibyl. 

He walked away from the fountain keeping his 
face averted, for he would not deign to glance again 
toward the aged stranger. But Zopyrus^ heart was 
filled with pity toward this old man whose eyes like 
living coals burned forth their last lustre from the 
ashy gray of his withered face. 

^‘You are a stranger in Greece?’’ Zopyrus asked 
kindly. 

The old man gave an affirmative nod and said, his 
tones seeming to issue from the recesses of a cavern, 
'‘You too, my young friend, are a stranger to Greece, 
but not so your companion,” with a nod toward Cimon, 

[98] 


THE PROPHET AT DELPHI 


who now hesitated to leave the fountain side and 
lingered uncertainly to hear the discourse. 

^‘You are right, father,’’ replied Zopyrus, bestow¬ 
ing upon him a look of mingled wonder and approba¬ 
tion, came over with King Xerxes, but am not in¬ 
tending to return to Persia. My companion here knows 
that though once half a Greek, I am now entirely won 
over to the cause of Hellas. ’ ’ 

‘Ht is easy to turn over to the victorious side! 
Tell me did you fight for Greece before taking this 
step ? ’ ’ 

‘‘That he did,” cried Cimon who could no longer 
maintain his attitude of aloofness. “Next to Pausa- 
nias himself, there was no braver in the ranks of the 
Greeks 1” 

The stranger’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm and 
he bent upon Zopyrus a look of deep admiration. Sud¬ 
denly he stood up and though he leaned on his cane, 
the young men were surprised at his lofty stature. 

“Do you intend to worship the gods of Greece? I 
see you have made a start by journeying here to this 
shrine of pagon idolatry.” He looked about him, his 
sharp features expressive of scorn and disapproval. 

Cimon took an aggressive step toward the two, 
but Zopyrus stretched forth his hand deterringly. 

“Tell me what you mean,” Zopyrus asked, a sus¬ 
picion of the truth beginning to dawn upon him. 

The ancient pilgrim dropped his staff, and rais¬ 
ing his arms toward the heavens, cried, “And the Lord 
shall be king over all the earth; in that day shall there 
be one Lord, and his name one. For the idols have 

[99] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


spoken vanity, and the diviners have seen a lie, and 
have told false dreams; they comfort in vain.’’ 

He turned and pointed with one oustretched arm 
in the direction of the oracle, and with the other ex¬ 
tended heavenward he continued: ‘^Thus saith the 
Lord of hosts: Hn those days it shall come to pass that 
ten men shall take hold out of all the languages of the 
nation, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is 
a Jew, saying, ^‘We will go with you; for we have 
heard that God is with vou. ’ ^ ^ ^ 

c/ 

The last words trembled into a silence that neither 
of the men dared to break. The awful solemnity and 
stern conviction of this prophet of a foreign race filled 
them with indescribable fear. They stood in reverent 
attitude before this worthy seer whose inspired 
words caused the possible utterances of the demented 
Pythoness to sink into utter insignificance. When the 
young men ventured to look up, the aged one was dis¬ 
appearing around the edge of the fountain in the oppo¬ 
site direction from which the two had come. 

^‘Wait a moment,” called Zopyrus. ‘‘Who are 
you, worthy sir, who have only strengthened convic¬ 
tions which I already possessed?” 

The prophet smiled and his face seemed alight 
with an inner radiance as he replied, “They call me 
Zechariah. ’ ’ 


[ 100 ] 


< 


c 

( 


I 

c 

t ( 
i 4 < 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The House of Pasicles. 

^^For now at least the soil is free, 

Now that one strong reviving breath 
Has chased the eastern tyranny 
Which to the Greek was ever death. 

Lord Houghton. 

M ost conspicuous among the few houses left in 
the city after the departure of the Persians 
was one that stood at no great distance from 
the Acropolis. It was a typical home of the upper- 
class Athenian citizen. Its narrow stone front with a 
massive door and its two closely barred windows at the 
second story did not present a very imposing aspect, 
but if one desired admittance and felt disposed to make 
use of the polished bronze knocker with which the door 
was equipped, his impressions of inhospitality were 
immediately dispelled by the appearance of a slave 
who courteously bade him enter. 

Looking do\vn a short hallway one beheld an open 
court surrounded by a colonnade and in the center of 
this court stood an altar to Zeus. It was here on pleas¬ 
ant days that the family assembled for worship, par¬ 
took of its meals, entered into friendly discussions or 
played games. The women’s apartments were above, 
theirs being the barred windows which looked out on 
the narrow winding street. The kitchen and servant 

[lOl] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 

quarters occupied the rear, but by far the most inter¬ 
esting room was that which adjoined the court to the 
left; the library. As if by a miracle this room remained 
intact. Its shelves were filled with hundreds of rolls of 
manuscript, some slightly charred but undamaged by 
fire. At intervals about the room, upon marble pedes¬ 
tals stood statuettes of the muses, for this was the 
library of a poet, and could he not not thus readily sum¬ 
mon the muse he desired? 

If one were able to tell the time of day by the 
shadow-pointer in the nearby public square, he would 
know that it was shortly past the noon hour. Four 
men were seated in the library, three of them young, 
the fourth, slightly past middle-age, was the master of 
the house, the poet Pasicles. 

As he sat facing his friends, surrounded by his 
beloved muses and scrolls, he appeared the personifica¬ 
tion of dignity and aristocracy. His features were 
clearly and delicately cut, his face thin, his forehead 
high and intellectual. The folds of a white linen chiton 
draped the long lines of his figure. The three younger 
men were Cimon, Polygnotus and Zopyrus. The soft 
notes of a flute came from the direction of the court. 

'‘Your young son plays the flute remarkably well. 
May I ask who is his teacher ? ’ ’ asked Polygnotus. 

"The pedagogue, Niceratus, has given Mimnermus 
instructions in flute playing. It is an art in which I 
wish the lad to become proficient. The Boeotians have 
ever excelled with the flute and I would not have 
Mimnermus less skilled in the art than his grandfather 
for whom he is named. 

"In my opinion,'' said Cimon, "a youth can spend 

[ 102 ] 


THE HOUSE OF PASICLES 


his time more profitably than with music. Think you 
that with the Persian expelled, all warfare is past?- 
Bemember Athens is an object of envy to Sparta, 
Thebes and Corinth, to say nothing of such islands as 
Aegina, Samos and Naxos, and who knows what may 
take place when Mimnermus is in his early manhood! ^ ’ 
believe all sciences and arts should form a part 
of every man’s education,” replied the poet quietly, 
”but to each one should be allowed the privilege to 
specialize in that particular phase of culture which is 
dearest to his heart.” 

Cimon laughed good-naturedly. confess my 
tastes are one-sided too, but I truly believe that our 
new friend, Zopyrus, is equally skilled with the sword 
or the pen. I swear by the gods I never saw mortal 
man fight more heroically than he at Plataea, and yet 
he can recite the works of Homer, Hesiod and Sappho, 
and is well acquainted with the histories of Persia, 
Babylonia, Assyria and Egypt!” 

‘^Nevertheless,” remarked Zopyrus to whom all 
eyes were now turned, “I admire a specialist and will 
say that I hope to cultivate the arts more assiduously. 

I do not enjoy fighting, but God has given me a strong 
body and I hope the ability to judge correctly between 
right and wrong. ’ ’ 

Pasicles leaned forward in his chair and looked 
with peculiar interest at the young stranger. 

“Do you know the tragedian, Aeschylus?” he 
asked. 

Zopyrus replied in the negative, wondering at his 
host’s question. 

“Your statement that God has given you a strong 

[103] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 

body/’ continued the poet, a peculiar one. Among 
the numerous friends of my profession, Aeschylus 
alone speaks frequently of ‘God.’ Does it not seem 
strange that he exalts Zeus so far above the others, 
each one of whom has his or her interest in the affairs 
of men 1 ’ ’ 

“No it does not appear strange to me, for I have 
often wondered at the petty jealousies existing between 
the gods and even between them and mortals,” an¬ 
swered the Persian. 

“But,” said Pasicles earnestly, “the envy of the 
gods is just and divine. Have you never noticed that 
if a mortal rises to too great heights here below, some 
god will surely cause his downfall?” 

“That, my friend,” said Zopyrus, seriously inter¬ 
ested, “is not the envy of the gods, but the natural 
result of arrogance and pride.” 

“As I can well testify,” said Cimon sadly, “for 
was not my father Miltiades, the greatest man in all 
Greece after Marathon? And did he not at the very 
summit of his glory, stoop to avenge some petty wrong 
and thus die an ignoble death ? It seems that with com¬ 
plete success, passes that good judgment which is ever 
present as we strive to attain some worthy end.” 

“The fate of your hapless parent,” said Pasicles, 
“should prove a warning, but alas, man is little con¬ 
tent to profit by the sad experiences of his forefathers. 
Each one must learn for himself in the school of life, 
and many there be who, in the realization of success, 
do not lose their power of judgment, and such as 
these are partially rewarded by the gods here on 
earth. ’ ’ 


[104] 


THE HOUSE OF PASICLES 


‘‘What do you think of our statesman, Themis- 
toclesT^ asked Polygnotus. “Is he not of the type 
likely to lose his head over his popularity, for truly 
one must admit his advice about Salamis was a turn¬ 
ing point in our affairs with Persia/^ 

“In truth,replied Pasicles, “I like not this blus¬ 
tering statesman any too well. My sympathies have 
always been with his rival, the just Aristides whose 
policies are not for the purpose of display, and whose 
reserved manner has won the confidence of the refined, 
thinking people.’^ 

“ Themistocles has the interest of Athens truly at 
heart, and the people have just awakened to a realiza¬ 
tion of this,’’ said another voice from the doorway. 

Zopyrus looked up and saw a stranger, to him at 
least, whose gaze after it had fallen upon each of his 
three companions, rested in final friendly curiosity 
upon him. His waving hair and short beard of rich 
chestnut brown framed a face of surprising manly 
beauty, the face of a man about the age of Pasicles. His 
forehead was smooth and broad, the brows rather prom¬ 
inent, the eyes meditative, but containing indications 
of a hidden fire which might leap forth were their 
owner challenged to uphold a conviction. 

“Welcome into our midst, Aeschylus,” exclaimed 
Pasicles rising and extending his hands to the new¬ 
comer. “We will not continue to argue about Themis¬ 
tocles and Aristides as we have been wont to do. You 
are acquainted with the soldier and the artist, are you 
not, but here is a stranger to you I am sure, Zopyrus 
who fought bravely at Plataea.” 

[105] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


The tragedian, Aeschylus, crossed the room and 
seated himself by the side of Zopyrus, who wondered 
at his searching gaze but did not resent it. Above all 
things the sincerity of Aeschylus greatly impressed 
him. The poet seemed to be one who was forever 
searching after truth. Zopyrus regretted that he had 
read none of the plays of this great man. He knew that 
his fame was due principally to his powers as an advo¬ 
cate of the truth, painful though that truth might be, 
and to the fact that he did not avoid the difficult prob¬ 
lems of life, but faced them with earnest zeal and saw 
them through to the finish. Of the mighty and force¬ 
ful language which conveyed his ideas, as opposed to 
the more elaborate and artificial style of Pasicles, 
Zopyrus had heard, and he enjoyed the privilege of 
conversing with the great poet. 

Two kindred souls had intercourse through the 
eyes and the medium of conversation. An attachment 
which time would strengthen sprang up between the 
young Persian and the older poet, such a friendship 
as was not uncommon among the Athenians, where a 
man of maturer years lived again in a younger man 
the joys and possibilities that might have been his, and 
where a youth looked with reverence to an older com¬ 
panion whom he worshipped as a hero. 

Presently Pasicles arose, and leading the way 
through the court, bade his guests follow. Soon they 
found themselves in a garden, strolling along paths 
bordered with trees, dowers and shrubs, opening here 
and there to reveal a statue of some sylvan god reclin¬ 
ing under the shade. An aged gardener was tending 
the flowers with loving care. 

[io6] 


THE HOUSE OF PASICLES 


‘‘Where are the women, Hagnias?’^ asked Pasicles 
as the five men approached. 

“Under the arbor near the fountain,was the 
reply. 

It was as Hagnias had said. Upon a stone bench 
and a large high-backed stone chair were seated three 
women. The woman in the chair arose smilingly when 
she beheld the men and approached Pasicles who 
pressed an affectionate kiss upon her smooth white 
forehead. 

“Cleodice my wife, and my daughters, Eumetis 
and Corinna, this is Zopyrus who is to be a guest in 
our home for awhile. The others you know. 

The matronly Cleodice heartly bade Zopyrus 
welcome and her sentiments were echoed by her daugh¬ 
ters. Corinna who resembled her mother, especially 
in the wealth of auburn hair which both possessed ac¬ 
knowledged the introduction and then made her way to 
the other side of the fountain to where Polygnotus 
stood gazing into the mirror-like surface, and Zopyrus 
as his eyes followed these two, knew that love existed 
between them. 

The other daughter, Eumetis, who seemed the 
feminine counterpart of her father, was her sister ^s 
senior by at least a year. She did not possess the 
physical loveliness of Corinna hut her plainer features 
expressed sincerity and selfishness almost to a fault. 
One knew that the plain exterior harbored a soul that 
would give and continue to give for the sake of those 
she loved. If it is possible to possess selfishness to a 
fault it is where one^s greatest joy comes from seeing 
others happy and this was true of the elder daughter 

[107] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


of the poet. If self is the only prison that can ever con¬ 
fine the soul, Eumetis was as free as the birds of the 
air. 

‘‘Amid such charming surroundings as these, one 
ought never to be sad,’’ said Zopyrus to Eumetis after 
the introduction. “It seems a miracle that this lovely 
home was spared. Do you happen to know why it 
escaped pillage?” 

“Some say,” replied the daughter of Pasicles, 
“that it was spared out of respect to my dear father, 
but he modestly refutes this and claims that because 
of its size and proximity to the city, it was chosen as 
quarters for Persian officers. Even the altar to Zeus 
remained unprofaned and the manuscripts, many of 
them, were just as my father had left them.” 

“Although this is indeed a lovely spot, I shall not 
test your hospitality to the limit. I intend to help 
rebuild Athens, and soon with the combined efforts of 
many, there will be homes for all,” said Zopyrus smil¬ 
ing into the girl’s serious face. 

“Indeed,” she said, “we shall be delighted to 
have you with us. My father has spoken very well of 
you and says you have offered to copy some of his odes 
for him.” 

“That is very small payment in return for lodg¬ 
ment in this miniature paradise,” the youth returned 
gallantly. 

Eumetis laughed and blushed. “Our paradise on 
earth is a good deal what we make it. True joy comes 
from within, happiness from without. I have tried to 
cultivate the spirit of joy, but believe I have failed 
miserably. With Corinna it is different. She is always 

[io8] 


THE HOUSE OF PASICLES 


gay. Happiness comes to her unasked, so I believe she 
has a well of joy within her. 

The man and the girl looked in the direction of 
the fountain to where Polygnotus and Corinna sat 
together on the edge of the marble basin. 

^‘Polygnotus has been a caller here for some 
time,^’ continued Eumetis. “The horrors of recent 
events have delayed but not altered his purpose.’^ 

“I could wish your sister no greater happiness,’’ 
said Zopyrus, for I admire this artist very much.” 

“Yes, Polygnotus is fortunate indeed in possess¬ 
ing the love of the girl whom he admires, but his most 
intimate friend, Cimon, has not been so successful 
where affairs of the heart are concerned. He has not 
seen his sweetheart since he returned from Aegina, 
and he does not know what fate may have befallen her. 
She was not among those who fled to Troezen and 
Salamis. ’ ’ 

“That is truly most sad,” replied Zopyrus with 
feeling. “It may be that when the city is back again 
to its normal condition, she will appear. If she loves 
Cimon she will return to him. ’ ’ 

“Ah, but there lies the difficulty,” said Eumetis, 
“She does not love him. I called her his sweetheart 
wrongly, for it is purely a one-sided affair, and I fear 
that she will never return. Cimon idolizes her, and 
would have made her his wife ere this, but she refused. 
Can you think of anything more tragic than unrequited 
love 1 ’ ’ 

“It is most unfortunate, but I believe unusual, for 
in my opinion true love has its origin in a mutual at¬ 
traction, for we creatures, of dust though we be, are 

[109] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


conceited enough that we love those who love us. There 
are exceptions, of course.^’ 

Eumetis turned away. ^‘The exceptions often 
prove the rule, and unfortunate are they whose lives 
give proof of this.^’ 

They joined the others as did Polygnotus and 
Corinna, and all entered the house to partake of re¬ 
freshments. 


[no] 


CHAPTER XIV. 
Beyond the Dipylon Gate. 


^‘Athens, the stately-walled, magnificent!’^ 

Pindar. 

T he sun sank in an unclouded blaze, but with the 
approach of evening the toilers did not cease. 
The builders of the pyramids of Egypt could 
boast no greater zeal than that with which the Athe¬ 
nians fortified their city. Men, women and children, 
rich, middle-class and poor worked together for the 
attainment of but one end; the erection of a wall about 
their city which would protect it from over-ambitious 
states and cities. Stones from partly demolished 
buildings, broken pieces of statuary, the debris of 
structures once the pride of every loyal Athenian, 
added bit by bit to the work of defense. 

Zopyrus labored near the Diomean Gate lifting 
the large stones into places which had been freshly 
spread with mortar by the women and children. In 
vain his eyes searched the throng for a figure, the 
memory of which occupied his thoughts almost con¬ 
stantly since Salamis. He had worked at different 
sections of the wall in the hope that somewhere he 
would see her employed in the common task of all, 
but though he anxiously scanned a thousand faces dur¬ 
ing the course of his labor, hers was not among them. 

[Ill] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


A young man at his side nudged his elbow. ^^By 
tomorrow at this time the wall should be of sufficient 
height for Aristides and his companion to leave for 
Sparta to join Themistocles who awaits them.’^ 

Zopyrus agreed with the youth’s statement and 
added, ‘^It was a clever scheme of Themistocles to go 
to Sparta apparently to argue about the feasibility 
of building a wall around Athens, the while he planned 
to have all Athenians erect such a wall. By having 
Aristides delay in joining him he made it possible for 
us to get the wall to a height sufficient for defense.” 

‘^Themistocles is very clever, no doubt,” replied 
his companion, “but the calm judgment of Aristides is 
not to be discredited.” 

“Of course not,” said Zopyrus, “but it is the wit 
of Themistocles which will frustrate the ambitions of 
Sparta this time. Aristides is like the moon which is 
now rising on the other side of the city, as compared 
with the sun, Themistocles.” 

At this moment Abronychus, a youth whom Zopy¬ 
rus had met after the battle of PlatsBa, approached 
the two with a friendly clap upon the shoulder of each. 

“Zopyrus and Lysimachus! I am glad to see you 
two together. In my mind I have always associated 
you as men of like temperament.” 

“But,” said Zopyrus jocosely, “an argument has 
engaged us both up to the present moment. Your 
friend puts much confidence in the opinions of Aris¬ 
tides, while I maintain Themistocles to be the superior 
of the two.” 

Abronychus ’ smile spread into a broad grin. Turn¬ 
ing to Lysimachus he said, “Your father wishes to talk 

[ 112 ] 


BEYOND THE DIPYLON GATE 


with you at once. I met him at the shop of Aphohus 
where he awaits you.’^ 

As the figure of Lysimachus disappeared in the 
crowd Zopyrus remarked, ‘^A likely young fellow. I 
liked his upright manner, though his opinions differed 
from mine.^’ 

^‘His father summons him,^^ said the other, ^‘that 
he may bid farewell before leaving in the morning, at 
least twelve hours before he expected to make the trip. 
You see his father is Aristides who is to join The- 
mistocles at Sparta.’^ 

‘‘Aristides his fatherexclaimed the crest-fallen 
Zopyrus. “Well I like him and hope he will not resent 
my remarks. 

“If I know Lysimachus,’^ said the other, “he will 
take no offense at what you said. I hope you will see 
him again. He has worked near the Diomean Gate ever 
since the wall was commenced. Your energies have 
not been so concentrated, for if I remember correctly, 
I have seen you at the gate of Diocharus and upon an¬ 
other occasion you were unloading stones at the north 
of the city beyond the Acharman Gate.” 

“I will tell you the reason for my scattered' efforts, 
though I maintain I have worked diligently wherever 
I happened to be. I began at the east side of the city, 
working near the different gates, a half day at a time 
and traveling northward. I am searching for a girl 
whom I met at the time of the battle of Salamis. I have 
not seen her since, and I know not where to find her.” 

“Her name?” inquired Abronychus. 

“Alas I did not ask it, but her face I can not 

[113] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


forget! Eyes that reflect the heaven’s blue, straight 
brows, delicately chiseled nose, a mouth that- 

Abronychus threw up his hands in deprecation, 
have not seen her, or I have seen hundreds of her! 
Which shall I say, my friend! I must be going now and 
I wish you success in your search for the missing 
lady. ’ ’ 

After the departure of Abronychus, Zopyrus toiled 
lifting rocks and pieces of masonry. It was with a feel¬ 
ing of inetfable relief that he heard the orders of the 
night-guard and saw that others were coming to take 
the places of those who had labored since mid-after¬ 
noon. Presently an approaching female figure caught 
his eye and in an instant he recognized Ladice whom he 
had rescued from the coarse Persian officer. She was 
conversing with an older woman and Zopyrus tried to 
attract her attention, for from her he hoped to learn 
the identity of her companion on the Acropolis. The 
tired workers in their eagerness to get to their homes 
for rest, pressed between him and Ladice, and he soon 
lost sight of her. He was pleased to know that she 
had reached Athens in safety, but his heart was filled 
with anxiety for the maiden whom he had rescued 
on the Acropolis. 

As Zopyrus passed the Sacred Gate he glanced 
down the broad white road that he had followed the 
day he bore in his arms the unconscious Greek girl. 
The moon back of him shed its soft ethereal light over 
a scene that had recurred to him again and again in 
memory. Moved by an unexplainable impulse, he 
passed through, the city-gate and pursued his course 

[114] 



BEYOND THE DIPYLON GATE 


along the road that stretched luringly into the distance, 
bordered by the dusky shadows of olive trees. 

Scarcely had he proceeded a furlong when he be¬ 
came aware of a figure several paces ahead. The man, 
for so it proved to be, was lost in thought and walked 
slowly, his head bent forward in meditation. Zopyrus^ 
first impulse was to return to the city, but something 
familiar in the man^s dress and figure arrested his 
notice, so he carried out his original intention of tak¬ 
ing a moonlight stroll along the Sacred Way. Before 
the man turned Zopyrus had recognized the poet 
Aeschylus and simultaneously with the recognition 
came a feeling of joy that this much revered man could 
be his companion upon such an occasion. Aeschylus 
recognized the youth as he approached and placed an 
arm across his shoulders as together they proceeded 
to the northwest. 

For some moments only the sound of their sandals 
on the stony pavement broke the stillness, but at length 
Zopyrus asked; ‘‘Did this road stretching into the dis¬ 
tance lure you too as you passed the gate?’’ 

“It always entices me, for it is the way to my 
home. I live at Eleusis.” 

Zopyrus expressed no little surprise, for he had 
always thought of Aeschylus as a native of Athens. 

“I had planned to move to Athens,” continued the 
poet, “so my elder son could attend the Academy, but 
God saw fit to snatch him forever from me in the late 
war with the oriental barbarians.” 

Aeschylus stood a moment, his head bent forward, 
his attitude that of a man in complete subjection to a 
master. Zopyrus imagined that his lips moved but 

[II5] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


there was no sound forthcoming*. Then there came to 
the Persian the memory of the maiden’s prayer, fol¬ 
lowed by the song from a myriad unseen throats, the 
mighty paean that had saved Greece. Zopyrus as he 
watched the poet in silence knew that he too prayed. 
When the latter raised his head Zopyrus said tensely: 

Your prayer is the second of its kind that I have seen. 
It ascends straight to God —” —then after a moment’s 
pause, ‘‘Tell me how do you explain the miracle of 
Salamis 1 ’ ’ 

Aeschylus gazed long and earnestly into the eyes 
of the young man before he answered. 

“It was a word from the invisible, unapproachable 
Spirit of the universe.” 

Zopyrus was greatly moved by the poet’s words. 

“You believe that in great crises Zeus will help 
those whom Pie believes to be in the right?” 

“Yes, but I believe that this God must have been 
approached by a devout suppliant, and that this was 
his answer to an earnest prayer.” 

“Aeschylus,” said the young man, and he stood 
and faced his companion so that the moon shone full 
into his face revealing his emotion, “I was myself a 
witness, the only one, to the prayer that saved Greece.” 

“You a witness to such a prayer!” exclaimed the 
incredulous poet. 

Zopyrus nodded, then as the two resumed their 
nocturnal promenade he related to the interested phil¬ 
osopher in detail, trying not to reveal his identity, the 
facts of his meeting with the girl upon whom he had 
not laid eyes for a year. After his narration had been 

[ii6] 


BEYOND THE DIPYLON GATES 


concluded lie was conscious of the fixed gaze of his com¬ 
panion upon him. 

^^Zopyrus/’ said Aeschylus, have decided to 
begin work on a tragedy which will present the Persian 
point of view and especially that of the royal family in 
this war, I would be very grateful would you acquaint 
me with many details of life at Susa.^^ 

Zopyrus was startled. Had his words or manner 
of speech betrayed him to the friend whom above all 
others he esteemed most highly? It was apparent that 
even if Aeschylus did know him to be a Persian 
by birth, he was neither rebuking nor condemning him 
for that fact, but rather was he mildly assuring him 
that his birth need be no detriment to him in his present 
surroundings. Zopyrus believed that Aeschylus was 
convinced of his sincerity in the present interests of 
Greece. 

‘H shall be pleased to assist you in your great 
work,’’ he replied in a quiet tone. ‘^Having spent a 
few months out of each year at the Persian court, I 
should know something of the Persian view-point.” 

‘^Were you a servant or a member of the nobil¬ 
ity?” questioned the poet quickly. 

‘^Must I tell you that?” asked the younger man. 

‘ ‘ I should like to know. ’ ’ 

<<yery well, I am a cousin of king Xerxes. My 
father was satrap of Sardis and an own brother of 
Darius Hystaspis.” 

The older man turned quickly and his brow clouded 
as he cried:— 

^^What do you mean by parading in Greek clothes 
and looking with love upon a maiden of Hellas ? Think 

[” 7 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


you that a pure lovely girl of our land would return 
the alfections of a cousin of the profligate Xerxes 

Zopyrus^ reply was made with becoming dignity, 
sincerely believe that the girl returns my affections, 
and as for my Persian ancestry, what think you of my 
features 

Aeschylus^ expression of anger softened as he 
looked upon the young man’s face. 

‘‘There is the mystery,” he said in a puzzled voice, 
“I can think of no other than Theseus when I behold 
you. Your face is the type that characterizes our 
people.” 

“Prom my departed mother have I inherited the 
features in which you behold a likeness to one of your 
national heroes, but not alone in face and form do I 
resemble the Greeks, but in nature too am I trulv one 
of you. My mother was a Greek whose parents were 
members of the family of Ceryces.” 

“Ceryces!” exclaimed Aeschylus in surprise. 
“Outside of the family of Eumolpidae, I know no better 
in all this fair land. I bid you welcome to Greece and 
into our midst. I was not mistaken in my first im¬ 
pressions of you. Will you overlook the hasty words 
I spoke a few minutes ago?” 

“I was not offended,” replied Zopyrus, “for I 
knew that after mature deliberation you would be con¬ 
vinced of the reality of my sincerity. My conscience 
has been my guide. I have always tried to obey it, thus 
keeping it ever sensitive.” 

The poet smiled kindly into the earnest young face 
flushed with emotion. 

“Young man, perfection lies in just that,” he 

[ii8] 


BEYOND THE DIPYLON GATE 


said, keeping the conscience sensitive. If you con¬ 
tinue thus to strive after perfection in your youth you 
will be laying up virtues which will serve you in the 
crises of life which come later. 

^^But I have often thought,’’ said Zopyrus 
puzzled, ‘Hhat sometimes it is very difficult to deter¬ 
mine between virtues and vices. That may sound very 
strange to you who consider them to be exactly oppo¬ 
site, but occasionally even a sensitive conscience can 
not discriminate. It seems to me that virtues and vices 
are very closely allied. How easy it is for one who is 
the very soul of generosity to over-step the bound and 
become a spendthrift! Might not one who possessed 
the virtue of thrift pass over the hair-breadth boundary 
into the vice of miserliness? Might not one of a lov¬ 
ing nature tend toward licentiousness if not watchful, 
or one of self-restraint become too cold? Then again 
if one is neat and careful about one’s personal appear¬ 
ance might he not become vain if not watchful, or on 
the other hand if indifferent to the appearance of his 
body because the weightier matters of the soul con¬ 
cerned him more, might he not have the tendency to 
grow filthy and untidy in appearance? So it seems 
to me, my good Aeschylus, that it takes a very alert 
and sensitive conscience indeed to distinguish between 
the so-called virtues and vices, and to pass judgment 
correctly.” 

‘‘You are right, my boy, it does, and remember 
this; that in letting your conscience decide matters, 
you must not forget that no man lives unto himself, 
for everything he does affects another, but I see you 
are tired,” he said. “You have worked hard at the 

[II9] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


wall. In that you have done rightly, for toil is man¬ 
kind’s greatest boon and life without industry is sin.” 

Zopyrus glanced toward the sky, ^^The moon is 
beginning its descent and I must return to the house 
of Pasicles.” 

^ ‘ One moment before you go, ’ ’ said the poet, laying 
a detaining hand upon the other’s arm, You as a mem¬ 
ber of the Ceryces family should be initiated into the 
divine mysteries of Eleusis. Had your departed 
mother never mentioned them to you?” 

^^As a very young child I remember my mother’s 
having mentioned, upon several occasions when we 
were alone, the Eleusinian Mysteries and my childish 
mind nourished by an exceptionally vivid imagination, 
dwelt a great deal upon the probable nature of these 
enigmatical rites. ’ ’ 

‘‘At two months from this time when the moon is 
again in its fullness, I will act in the capacity of 
mystagogue for you. Till then I will see you occa¬ 
sionally at Athens in the home of our mutual friend. 
May the God who is powerful above all others protect 
you.” 

With these words he was gone leaving Zopyrus 
puzzled but greatly elated. 


[ 120 ] 


CHAPTER XV. 

What Happened at the Theatre of Dionysus. 

Forth came, with slow and measured tread, 

The ancient chorus, solemn, dread. 

And through the theatre ^s ample bound 
Stately they took their wonted round/’ 

Schiller. 

A fter the passage of a few weeks, Zopyrus be¬ 
came convinced of a fact which caused him great 
concern. It was the growing love for him which 
Eumetis could ill conceal. An alliance with the house 
of the aristocratic poet would be an honor. Zopyrus 
believed and rightly, that he had found favor with 
Pasicles and Cleodice. Still he knew that while he 
respected and admired Eumetis for the many desirable 
qualities which she possessed, he did not love her as 
a man should love the woman whom he chooses out 
of all others to be his mate. The cognizance of this 
unreturned affection and his inability to rediscover the 
maiden who was the object of his love were the only 
obstacles which disturbed the course of an otherwise 
peaceful existence. 

Spartaks pernicious ambitions were timely frus¬ 
trated and Athens surrounded by seven miles of solid 
masonry and with Themistocles as its temporary idol, 
settled down to its pre-war mode of life. In the Agora 
the fishmonger’s bell announced the opening of fish- 

[I2I] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


market, artisans went to their trade, the wealthy sought 
the shops and other public places or gossiped while 
they rested in the comfortable seats in the shady 
arcades. But the ordinary routine was frequently in¬ 
terrupted by judicial duties or public services pertain¬ 
ing to religious festivals. Olympiads or theatrical per¬ 
formances, and it was upon the latter occasion that on 
this day the crowds were leaving the market-place and 
pursuing a westward direction to the theatre of Diony¬ 
sus which was an amphitheatre situated on the south¬ 
ern slope of the Acropolis. 

Entrance was procured for the public through 
great gates on the right and left which opened into 
the orchestra or circular pit where the chorus marched 
and sang between the acts. The orchestra was situ¬ 
ated between the stage and the auditorium which had 
a seating capacity of thirty thousand. The stone seats 
which rose tier upon tier were very wide and actually 
consisted of three distinct parts; the first as a seat, 
the second as a gangway for those walking, and the 
third part was hollowed out a little for the feet of 
those sitting above. The whole semi-circular structure 
was cut by stairs which like radii divided it into sec¬ 
tions to facilitate the locating of seats. At the top of 
each division upon a pedestal stood the bust of some 
god or goddess, that of Dionysus occupying the middle 
section or place of honor. 

Considerably to the right and about half way down 
in the section of Aphrodite sat Pasicles, Cleodice, 
Polygnotus, Corinna, Zopyrus, Eumetis and the lad 
Mimnermus. Bright colored kerchiefs adorned the 
heads of the women all over the assemblage, giving a 

[122] 


WHAT HAPPENED AT THE THEATRE OP DIONYSUS 


gala appearance to the scene. At intervals over the 
theatre there were raised seats with high ornate backs, 
arm-rests and cushions. These were reserved for 
judges and officials or for any who were deemed deserv¬ 
ing to occupy them. In one of these seats near the 
front of the section of Dionysus sat the tragedian, 
Phrynichus, so privileged as the composer of the 
tragedy, ^‘The Capture of Miletus,^’ which was about 
to be enacted. Next to him was seated Aeschylus, his 
younger contemporary and staunch admirer. 

Above the vast assembly stretched the azure sky 
across which an occasional fleecy cloud moved Avith the 
gentle breeze. Behind and above rose the Acropolis 
crowned with its marble ruins, and to the front of the 
audience, visible in the distance a little to the left of 
the stage was clearly discernible the conical outline of 
Hymettus, while farther to the east stretched the pur¬ 
ple range of Anchesmus. 

In his play, Phrjmchius vividly presented to his 
spectators, the sad events of the do^vnfall of the beauti¬ 
ful city of Miletus. He did not hesitate to blame cer¬ 
tain Greek leaders who allowed themselves to be influ¬ 
enced by secret agents from the enemy, so that many 
ships treacherously sailed away at the opening of the 
battle. As the play proceeded the poet in gifted 
language put into the mouths of his actors, the tragic 
tale of the plunder of its dwellings, the conflagration 
of its peerless temples and the captivity of its citizens. 
There arose in Zopyrus ^ memory the pale, tear-stained 
face of his mother when she learned from the lips of 
her stern husband, the fate of her native city. Sixteen 
years before she had been taken to Sardis as the bride 

p23] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


of the Persian satrap, but she had never forgotten the 
city of her birth, nor did she ever recover from the 
effect of its sad fate and the probable doom of friends 
and relatives. Zopyrns recalled how as a lad of four¬ 
teen he stood beside his mother’s death-bed and re¬ 
ceived from her lips the request to avenge the destruc¬ 
tion of Miletus. Scalding tears filled his eyes as he 
sat with bowed head. Hearing a stifled sob he looked 
up and saw that Eumetis was likewise in tears. Thus 
encouraged, to discover that he was not alone moved 
to tears by the memory of a past tragedy that lived 
again before thousands, he scanned the multitude 
around him, to learn that many were weeping. Scarcely 
was there one who had not lost a loved one, or who 
was not in some way painfully reminded of disasters 
through conflict with the Persians. In this great com¬ 
mon grief Zopyrus felt himself to be truly one in heart 
with the people about him. 

While in this mood he felt a light caressing touch 
upon his arm, and turning met the eyes of Eumetis 
looking up to him with sympathetic understanding, and 
in their violet depths he read a truth which, because 
he was young and life held for him the possibilities 
which it offers to all who are ambitious, flattered while 
yet it sincerely pleased him. Before he realized what 
he was doing his hand sought hers and held it, delight¬ 
ing in the thrill of contact. 

At the close of the drama a resonant voice from the 
stage addressed the throng. It was the ex-archon, 
Conon. 

‘‘Citizens of Athens,” he cried, “will you let go 
unpunished the offender who has this day moved to 

[124] 


WHAT HAPPENED AT THE THEATRE OF DIONYSUS 

tears, thousands? Is it without complaint that you 
listen to words which cause you to live again the 
miseries of the past? Has not Greece borne enough 
without being thus clearly reminded of past afflictions ? 
I move you we fine the author one thousand drachmas 
as a punishment/’ 

Aeschylus was upon his feet in an instant. 

‘‘Rather should our friend here,” indicating 
Phrynichus, “be rewarded the sum of a thousand 
drachmas for the skill with which he depicted those 
scenes of woe.” 

“Pay no heed to Aeschylus!” cried a voice. “He 
is a poet who probably entertains like ambitions. 
Phrynichus should be fined, not only for his own mis¬ 
deed, but as a warning to aspiring poets that we care 
not to have presented to us thus our national trage¬ 
dies.” 

The sympathies of the group who were around 
Pasicles were with Phrynichus and Aeschylus, and so 
likewise were hundreds of others, but the majority 
resented the fact that they had been forced to yield 
to tears. The motion carried and the tragedian was 
forced to pay the penalty inflicted upon him. 

As the crowds were leaving the amphitheatre 
Zopyrus espied Aeschylus and said as he approached 
him: “That was a good word you spoke for your 
elder friend. Our sympathies were with him.” 

“Phrynichus I believe,” answered Aeschylus, 
“would rather lose the thousand drachmas than have 
failed to stir the hearts of the Athenians as he did to¬ 
day. The light of victory was in his eye, and mark 
you, Zopyrus, Conon has not frightened me either, for 

[125] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


I intend to work on my ‘‘PersaB^^ with the hope that my 
audience too will melt into tears! But I have un¬ 
pleasant news for you, my friend. I am leaving soon 
for Sicily to visit Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse. My 
promise to escort you to the Mysteries will have to 
hold over till another year, however you will find in 
the most noble Pasicles a worthy mystagogue, and 
it is my earnest desire that you become initiated into 
the Mysteries at once.’^ 

‘‘Shall I not see you again before you leaver^ 
questioned Zopyrus much agitated at the thought of 
his friend ^s imminent departure. 

“I fear not, but time does not drag on the hands 
of youth, and,^’ he added with a smile, “you may find 
the girl of the Acropolis! Farewell. ^ ^ 

He was gone and there seemed a chaos in life 
where Aeschylus had once been. The truth-seeking 
poet had meant much to him since he had first met 
him in the home of Pasicles. He had known person¬ 
ally many poets and philosophers who in parasitic 
fashion drew their nourishment from the court of King 
Xerxes. They were neither original in their ideas, 
fearing to arouse the wrath of the king by any devia¬ 
tion from customs, nor were they sincere. Aeschylus 
would cater to no man, nor did he bow to public opinion. 
The truth clothed in forceful language, was what he 
presented to the Athenians, and they could take it or 
spurn it as they chose. 

The sight of Eumetis waiting for him filled Zopy¬ 
rus with a pleasant consciousness that the chaos might 
after all be filled with a living, loving personality, and 
he hastily joined her. Her slender face, usually 

[126] 


WHAT HAPPENED AT THE THEATRE OP DIONYSUS 


serious, lighted up with joy as she beheld the youth 
approaching. 

‘^The rest have gone on,’’ she said, ‘‘We must 
hasten if we are to overtake them.” 

“Is it necessary that we overtake them?” asked 
Zopyrus in a voice that sounded unnatural. 

Eumetis blushed and shook her head in the nega¬ 
tive. “No not if you prefer to delay.” 

“I do, Eumetis, for I have something to say to 
you. ” He paused a moment then continued: “Will the 
daughter of the aristocratic Pasicles deign to look 
upon Zopvrus whose origin is to her unknown, as a 
suitor?” 

“You are mistaken, Zopyrus, if you think your 
parentage is unknown to my father. Aeschylus has 
revealed your identity to him, though I know not what 
it is and care not as long as Pasicles approves.” 

For answer Zopyrus drew her arm within his 
own and together they crossed the Ceramicus as the 
shades of evening were beginning to descend. 


[ 127 ] 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The Celebkation of the Mysteries. 

“Thence what the lofty grave tragedians taught 
In chorus or iambic, teachers best 
Of moral prudence, with delight received 
In brief sententious precepts, while they treat 
Of fate, and chance, and change in human life. ’ ’ 

John Milton. 

T he first rays of sunlight were gilding the pil¬ 
lared temples of the city as the procession for 
the Eleusinian Mysteries filed through the 
.Dipylon Gate. It was the fifth day of celebration, the 
previous four having been spent at Athens in listening 
to formal proclamations, taking vows, undergoing puri¬ 
fication and being crowned with garlands as emblems 
of initiation. Light were the hearts of the youths 
and maidens as with singing and dancing they wended 
their way carrying cists containing offerings to Deme¬ 
ter and Dionysus. At the head of the procession was 
carried a statue of the infant lacchos, a form of 
Dionysus. 

Many of the female celebrants rode in carriages 
as the journey was a long fatiguing one despite the 
many stops made. Zopyrus walked beside an open litter 
in which sat Cleodice and Eumetis. 

‘‘My children,’^ said Cleodice smiling, “these 
mystae are celebrating your betrothal though they know 
it not! I regret so much that Pasicles was unable to 

[128] 


THE CELEBRATION OF THE MYSTERIES 


be with us, but he has invoked the blessing of Hymen 
upon you. The nuptials will be solemnized immedi¬ 
ately upon our return from Eleusis. ’ ’ 

Eumetis glanced shyly at the young man who 
strode beside the carriage. He had not looked well 
lately. There was something drawn and haggard about 
his features. 

‘H fear these days'of initiation into the Mysteries 
are proving too strenuous for you, Zopyrus. You do 
not look yourself today, said Eumetis with concern. 

‘Ht is nothing,’’ replied Zopyrus, ^^but I shall be 
glad when these rites are over.” 

^^For more reasons than one surely,” laughed 
Cleodice. remember how impatient your father,” 
turning to her daughter, ‘^was when it was necessary 
to wait till the close of the Nemean games to celebrate 
our marriage.” 

Zopyrus turned to survey the landscape which lay 
all green and gold about him. The familiarity of the 
scene at this point came to him as a shock. There to 
the right lay the olive-grove and there, he could mis¬ 
take it not, was the same tree beneath whose gnarled 
branches he had laid his precious burden on that day 
which would live forever in his memory. Again he 
seemed to feel the weight of her unconscious body; 
again he observed the beauty, winning seriousness and 
refinement of her features and yet once again he 
imagined he heard her ask if he were not a disguised 
Greek soldier! It was with an effort that he forced 
these memories from him. A year had passed and 
he would probably never see her again. She must have 
perished during the months that followed the battle 

[129] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


of Salamis as many Greeks had. It was folly, he re¬ 
solved, to waste one’s life in vain regrets. He was 
about to take as his wife a chaste girl of excellent par¬ 
entage, whose love was wholly his, and he would do 
his best to make her happy! As they passed the path 
to the southward where he and the maiden had turned 
to view the battle from the promontory, he turned his 
eyes resolutely to the anxious countenance of Eumetis 
and smiled, seeking to forget that which would force 
itself uppermost in his consciousness. He partially 
succeeded, for the eyes of the maiden, so full of loving 
regard, gave him a promise of undying atfection. He 
placed his band over hers as it lay on the side of the 
carriage, then suddenly he stopped as if struck by an 
arrow. 

Upon his ears in solemn cadence fell again the 
hymn to Dionysus, the paean of joy which had mi¬ 
raculously saved Greece. It was now being sung for 
the first time since that memorable event. Every voice 
that helped to swell the triumphal song, thrilled with 
irrepressible ecstasy. Only in the heart of one did 
sadness mingle with joy. 

‘‘What is the matter, Zopyrus? You are ill! 
Mother, stop a moment! I can walk as far as the foun¬ 
tain of Kallichoros while Zopyrus takes my seat in the 
carriage. ’ ’ 

Zopyrus quickly gained control of his emotions. 

“Foolish girl,” he said with mock severity, “do 
you think I would ride while you walked? I assure 
you I am perfectly well. The fountain is just now in 
sight where we shall rest and enjoy a little jest and 
merry-making. ’ ’ 


'■[130] 


THE CELEBRATION OF THE MYSTERIES 


The voices and innumerable instruments which 
had tilled the heavens with harmony ceased their music. 
Vast masses of clouds which swept the sky, alter¬ 
nately unveiled and eclipsed the sun. A crisp breeze 
sprang from the sea, so that the mystae proceeded 
along their way after a short stop, desirous of reach¬ 
ing the Fountain of Kallichoros before the storm which 
threatened should break. Their hopes were more than 
realized. The sun peeped out from behind a cloud 
just as they reached Eleusis by the sea, and shone 
directly above the gleaming temple to Demeter. With 
its magic rays it lit up the whole sacred precinct. First 
were visible the propolaea and the small temple of 
Pluto. To the left was the Telesterion, a large cov¬ 
ered building adjoining which was the sacred temple 
to the goddess Demeter, where only those were ad¬ 
mitted who had received full initiation. 

‘^This is the sacred temple, whispered Cleodice 
who already assumed the office of mystagogue, ^^and 
beyond, where you see the waving field of corn, lies the 
Rharian Plain where Demeter first sowed corn. Still 
farther is the field called Orgas, planted with trees 
consecrated to Demeter and Persephone.’’ 

An official cried in a loud voice, ^‘To the sea, ye 
Mystag.” 

‘^You must undergo further purification,” said 
Eumetis, ‘‘before you can proceed nearer the holy 
environs of the temple.” 

At this point Cleodice and Eumetis left Zopyrus 
who was hurried on with others to the seashore and 
into the sea where the final purification took place. 
Nearly opposite lay Salamis, the view from this point 

[131] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


differing but little from that which he had obtained 
from the promontory nearer Athens. 

The sun had set and the stars came out one by 
one. As he stood upon the sand and gazed toward 
the hazy outline of Salamis, an ecstatic mood took pos¬ 
session of him. Conscious of his own impotence, he 
sank upon his knees and lifted his eyes to the God 
who had saved Greece, and who was manifest in all 
the wonders of nature around him. 

Soon he realized that the other mystas, bearing 
flaming torches, were leaving the shore and repairing 
to the temple. As he hurried hither he met Cleodice 
with a torch for him. 

‘‘We are going to the Telesterion to hear the ad¬ 
dress of the hierophant, ^ ’ she explained. 

The flickering, reddish lights from hundreds of 
torches cast grotesque shadows and produced a weird 
etfect as they entered the enormous hall and seated 
themselves upon the steps which surrounded the square 
floor on all sides. Within this square many who had 
been in the procession from Athens marched and sang 
with the lyre, the flute and the barbiton. Upon their 
heads and around their shoulders rested garlands of 
interwoven flowers. 

The revelry ended at the appearance of four men 
from one of the six doors which were arranged in pairs 
on three sides of the hall. First in order came the 
sacred torch-bearer followed by the altar-priest who 
wore the insignia and carried the holy emblems for 
the service. Immediately behind him came the hiero¬ 
phant whose duty it was to expound the truths to the 
newly initiated. This man, chosen in the prime of life, 

[132] 


THE CELEBRATION OP THE MYSTERIES 


was selected from the aristocratic family of the 
Eumolpidae. His term would last till his death, for 
such was the custom regarding the election of this 
officer. In his footsteps followed a fourth figure, the 
sacred herald, who together with the altar-priest and 
torch-bearer, was chosen for life from the sacred family 
of Ceryces, the family in which Zopyrus could proudly 
claim membership. 

A hush fell upon the assembly at the appearance 
of these venerable men. The hierophant with out¬ 
stretched hands invoked the blessing of the Mother 
goddess upon the celebrants. Then in a well modulated 
voice he addressed his words to the newly initiated. 

Zopyrus sat as one in a trance, for the sentiment 
was similar to that of many utterances of his beloved 
friend Aeschylus. His thoughts wandered for a 
moment to his poet friend and he wondered if he were 
faring well on his journey to the island of Sicily. He 
was probably at this moment on the surface of the dark 
sea searching the far horizon for a first glimpse of fiery 
^tna, a favorite abode of Demeter and her daughter 
Persephone! This brought his thoughts back again to 
his immediate surroundings and he listened as the 
hierophant spoke:— 

‘^When I look upon yonder green fields, I call upon 
the faithful to give thanks to Demeter, that is, that 
active manifestation of the One through which the corn 
attains to its ripe maturity. Whether we view the sun 
or the harvest, or contemplate with admiration the 
unity and harmony of the visible or invisible world, 
still it is always with the Only, the All-embracing One 
we have to do, to Whom we ourselves belong as those 

[133] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


of His manifestations in which He places His self- 
consciousness. 

‘ ‘ The wonderful miracle of reviving vegetation, of 
the grain which dies in the ground and springs anew 
to life, illustrates man^s longing for a revival of his 
own life, and serves as an assurance of his hope of 
immortality. 

‘‘Many of you sit before me fearful for the mor¬ 
row, for you know not in the day or in the night what 
course fate has marked out for you. But think you 
that any part of the self-consciousness of this omnipo¬ 
tent God can sink into utter oblivion? I tell you that 
death is but a passing out of this life into a larger, 
fuller existence like unto the change which takes place 
in a kernel of corn when it is planted in the ground. 
What change does Demeter work in that corn? What 
change will the One accomplish in you? In Demeter 
you see explained the mysteries pertaining to the source 
of life. In Persephone you behold life itself with its 
problems. Their relation to each other is emblematic 
of man’s resurrection. We are here now to win the 
friendship of the Mother and Daughter that we may 
procure a blessing at their hands in the next existence.” 

The hierophant withdrew, and the sacred herald 
announced that a mystery play would be enacted. 

Aeschylus had hinted to Zopyrus that the celebra¬ 
tion consisted of “things said” and “things done.” 
The young man’s eyes were fixed in eager anticipation 
upon the clear space in the center of the Great Hall, 
around the sides of which were seated not less than 
three thousand spectators. The actors gained access 

[134] 


THE CELEBRATION OF THE MYSTERIES 


to the pit by means of trap-doors which opened from 
below. 

‘‘The first scene,whispered Cleodice, “will rep¬ 
resent Persephone and some girl friends picking roses, 
lilies and hyacinths in the fields of Enna in Sicily.’’ 



[ 135 ] 


CHAPTER XVII. 
Peksephone 


“Yonder brook Demeter’s tears received, 

That she wept for her Persephone.” 

Schiller. 

S CARCELY had the words fallen from Cleodice^s 
lips than there appeared several .maidens running, 
dancing and pirouetting. They seemed to be so 
many sylvan nymphs effusing the spirit of eternal 
spring among imaginary wooded hills, beside babbling 
brooks and amid fragrant meadows in search of flowers 
to wind in their long hair which streamed behind them 
or fell about their shoulders as they ran. 

^‘The one with the richly broidered gown of pure 
white is Persephone,’’ explained Eumetis, observing 
that Zopyrus’ eyes were fastened upon that figure. 

Seated between Cleodice and Eumetis, Zopyrus 
had not withdrawn his gaze from the girl in white, the 
Persephone. It was the maiden whom he had rescued 
on the Acropolis! 

‘^She is very beautiful, is she not, Zopyrus?” 
questioned Eumetis with pique. 

But Zopyrus did not hear. 

Happy Persephone! Life that moves along with 
nothing to disturb its tranquility! Presently she sees 
a flower, a narcissus, fairer and taller than any around 
it, but it is far away. She leaves her companions and 

[136] 


PERSEPHONE 


runs gayly to pluck it. Her hand is almost upon the 
fair blossom when lo! the earth opens at her feet, and 
a chariot drawn by two black horses emerges seemingly 
from the very bowels of the earth. Within the chariot 
stands a dark, somber-visaged man upon whose head 
rests a crown with a solitary dull red stone in the 
front. This man is Hades,* lord of the underworld. 
He seizes the hapless Persephone who struggles vainly 
for freedom, and placing her beside him in his magnifi¬ 
cent chariot, vanishes with her to the nether regions. 

While this scene was being enacted, Zopyrus sat 
as one dazed, for in the person of Hades he had recog¬ 
nized the traitor of Thermopylae. 

Again the pit is occupied, this time by two female 
figures clad in robes of mourning. They are Ceres 
and her faithful maid lambe. Ceres questions every 
one they meet in the hope of finding some trace of her 
lost daughter, Persephone. Hecate, goddess of night, 
is approached with an inquiry regarding the possible 
whereabouts of the unfortunate girl, but Night has seen 
nothing, only heard the cry of anguish. 

During the six months that Persephone dwelt with 
Pluto, her husband, the face of nature showed the 
withering touch of the mourning goddess. It was for 
Helios, the sun god, to reveal where Persephone was 
hidden, and during the remainder of the year that 
Persephone^s abode was with her mother, Ceres’ magic 
influence was made manifest in the growing and matur¬ 
ing vegetation. 

So the mother goddess. Earth, who during her sor¬ 
row had caused all nature to be barren, produced fruit, 

* Better known by his Roman name, Pluto. 

[137] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


flowers and grain in abundance. As her faithful heart 
pined for her daughter, Life, so do we mourn the lost 
lives of our loved ones until our souls are assured of 
their resurrection. So often from the bitterest experi¬ 
ences of life do the greatest blessings come. 

A communion service followed the presentation of 
the sutfering and rejoicing of Demeter, in which all the 
initiates drank of the same cup with the representa¬ 
tives of the goddesses. These ceremonies appealed to 
the eyes and imaginations of the celebrants through a 
form of religious mesmerism. 

The ceremonies over, the crowds moved slowly out 
of the Telesterion. From the entrance to the rock- 
terrace, Persephone and Ague, the woman who had 
represented Ceres, watched the departing throng. 

^^An appreciative audience, do you not think so, 
Persephone asked the older woman. 

sincerely hope so,^’ replied the girl. ^^My 
greatest happiness can come only from successfully 
convincing others that there is a future existence for 
all who deserve it.’^ 

‘‘I saw my cousin, Cleodice and her daughter, 
Eumetis,’^ said Ague. ‘‘There was a young man 
seated between them, and I believe he must be the one 
to whom Eumetis is betrothed. He will find Eumetis 
a worthy mate, for a more unselfish girl never lived. 
She loved Polygnotus, but when she realized that her 
sister, Corinna loved him, she stepped aside and gave 
Polygnotus every opportunity to pay court to her sis¬ 
ter. But see who is coming to pay court here, little 
Persephone! Behold Pluto is vanished, and in his 
stead we see Ephialtes. I was young once, Persephone, 

[138] 


PERSEPHONE 


and if I mistake not, your greatest happiness lies with 
him, not in revealing a future life to others. Do not 
misunderstand me, my dear, your part as Persephone 
is a noble one and may be for a year or two yet, but 
then younger Persephones will come to the front, and 
you do not want to become a Demeterhere Agne 
laughed bitterly. once stood as you now stand and 
hesitated between a lover and an ambition,—and now 
I am just Demeter, truly a noble calling, but not life 
as it should be. You are life, Persephone! You per¬ 
sonify it! Then live it, and Ephialtes will gladly share 
it with you. ’ ’ 

Persephone was amazed at Agnews frank outburst. 
She had always known her as a devout, conscientious 
woman whose interest in her part of Ceres in the mys¬ 
tery-play was the obsession of her life. It was now 
vividly impressed upon her that Agne had once been 
young as she was, that Agne had once loved and been 
loved, and now Agne ^s advice was to make the most of 
that love which comes in life’s spring-time. 

^^But I always thought you wanted me to succeed 
you some day as Demeter!” the girl exclaimed won- 
deringly. 

^ Alaybe some day you can, but live first. Demeter 
was a mother, and I believe a real mother will present 
the truths of our belief more vividly than can one who 
has never known the joys and pangs of motherhood.” 
With these words Agne left the maiden just as 
Ephialtes approached. 

^^Come with me to the Grotto of Pluto, Per¬ 
sephone,” said Ephialtes. ‘‘I wish to have a word 
with you alone.” 


[139] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 

The Grotto of Pluto was a half furlong distant 
from the Great Hall which the two now left by way 
of the rock-terrace. The night breeze from across the 
Hharian plain was warm and laden with the odors of 
grain fields. 

‘^The usual cool sea breeze has deserted us to¬ 
night,’’ remarked Persephone, ^Hut I love equally well 
that which blows from the land. It seems to bear a 
message from others who live in our own fair land 
and to unite us by its common touch. ’ ’ 

love that wind,” said Ephialtes, which blows 
across the water from strange, unkno^vn lands, bring¬ 
ing with it a feeling of mystery. It is characteristic, I 
suppose, that the woman love her native land and the 
familiar haunts of her childhood, but the man longs 
to explore the unknown.” 

^‘Yes I love Greece, Ephialtes, and who would not? 
It has the richest pale-blue air, the loveliest mountain 
forms and silvery estuaries, sinking far into the heart of 
the land! ’ ’ 

They arrived, meeting no one, at the entrance of 
the Grotto of Pluto. 

‘Hjet us go in,” said Ephialtes softly. ‘‘There is 
a new statue of lacchos.I would show you.” 

“Some other time, Ephialtes. There is no one 
here. Tell me what you said you wished to tell me 
when we were in the Telesterion. ” 

Ephialtes was keenly disappointed that the girl 
would not enter the grotto with him. His impulse was 
to carry her bodily there, but he knew her utterances 
of remonstrance would attract attention, so he 
silently obeyed her wish, feeling impotent rage. 

[140] 


PERSEPHONE 


the second night of the next full moon, there 
is to be a festival of Dionysus on the island of Naxos. 
Will you go with me, Persephone?’^ 

He was standing before her; he clasped her hand 
and gazed pleadingly into her eyes. She hesitated and 
turned thoughtfully away. 

will go with you if I may take Ague as chap¬ 
erone,” she replied. 

Ephialtes answered with well concealed irritation: 
<<Yery well, if you insist, but surely you do not mis¬ 
trust a friend of such long standing as myself, and oh 
my dear Persephone, will you not change your answer 
to my question which was put to you last when we 
drifted together in the barge off of Salamis?” 

‘‘My answer is the same, and by the way, have 
you found any clue to the identity of the traitor of 
Thermopylae ! ’ ’ 

The young man glanced furtively about him and 
made answer: “Not yet, but you may rest assured I 
will find him since my future happiness depends upon 
it. Goodbye now, sweet Persephone, till the second 
night of the full moon. I shall count the hours as lost 
till I see you.” 

He strode toward her as though to embrace her, 
but warned by her attitude of aloofness, merely im¬ 
printed a kiss upon her hand. He could well afford 
to bridle his passions so as not to offend her before 
the excursion to Naxos. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 
Agnews Advice. 


‘‘Could love part thus? was it not well to speak, 

To have spoken once ? It could not but be well. ’ ^ 

Tennyson. 

A lone in the darkness outside the cave of Pluto, 
the words of Ague kept ringing in Persephone’s 
ears:—^Live first! A mother will present the 
truths more vividly than one who has never known the 
joys and pangs of motherhood. ^ ^ Was this longing 
which filled her being, love for the man who had just 
left her, or was it merely an indefinable desire to fulfill 
the requirements of nature in regard to her sex? 

A short distance away the massive temple stood 
in dim relief against a starry sky. An occasional group 
of celebrants passing between it and the silent figure of 
the girl, revealed the sacred edifice and its precincts in 
the fluctuating lights of their torches. Life to Per¬ 
sephone had not been unlike that solid masonry, which 
had stood since it was built, unaffected by storms with¬ 
out, but now the flickering lights revealed it in a new 
aspect; showed it by the wavering illumination to con¬ 
tain secret nooks and crannies which had before been 
invisible. So had this new emotion lighted Per¬ 
sephone ^s soul till it brought into evidence secret 
chambers of her being of which she had been hereto¬ 
fore unconscious. 


[142] 


AGNE’S ADVICE 


Once before this yearning had taken possession of 
her being—she blushed with shame to think of it, but 
it was when the Persian officer had kissed her, after 
they had witnessed together the great battle. Of course 
it was wicked, she thought to herself, to think of that 
brute who had dared contemptuously to push aside the 
first civilities of their acquaintance, and behave in such 
a rude manner, for Ephialtes who was a Greek had 
never dared- 

Anyway, she said half aloud, he was probably 
killed at Plataea and it serves him right — only — of 
course — death is a pretty severe penalty just for kiss¬ 
ing a girl, even if one has no right to do it — no, I hope 
he isn^t dead. He wasn^t as handsome as Ephialtes, 
but there was something more courageous and master¬ 
ful about him, and his eyes didn’t shrink from looking 
right into mine—” 

With her hand upon her breast, her eyes wide 
and bright, she said aloud:— ^^Live first! A mother 
will present the truths more vividly than one who has 
never known the joys and pangs of motherhood.” 

The sudden consciousness of someone standing 
near, caused her to start violently and stammer in con¬ 
fusion, as she realized her last thoughts had been 
audible. A young man had appeared out of the 
shadows. 

He came a few steps nearer and said humbly: 
beg your pardon for this intrusion. I came from the 
temple to explore the Grotto, then I saw you stand¬ 
ing here, truly a vision to satisfactorily complete this 
impressive scene. I stood and watched you. I had no 
idea you would think aloud! ’ ’ 

[143] 



PEKSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 

Even in the faint light Persephone had recognized 
her rescuer of the Acropolis, and though her heart 
quickened its beat and her cheeks flushed, she resented 
his having heard her words, and said somewhat 
haughtily: thought all the Persians had left Greece 

by this time.’^ 

^‘All the Persians have,” he replied. ‘‘I am a 
Greek.” 

A contemptuous smile curled her lips. ‘^It must 
be convenient to be able to change one’s nationality at 
will! ’ ’ 

Her words stung him, but he did not swerve from 
his purpose. He took a step closer to her and said 
evenly: ‘H have been searching for you ever since the 
Persians were defeated at Platsea and now I have 
found you. Who are you Persephone?” 

She did not shrink from him at his approach, but 
with lips slightly parted and eyes wide with wonder, 
gazed steadfastly into his face. As their eyes met, his 
features relaxed from their severity, and once again 
he felt the same impulse to hold and kiss her as he had 
after the miracle of Salamis. All disdain had vanished 
from her attitude, and the words he had heard her 
speak and the vague yearning which they expressed, 
might not he — ? His arms were stretched forth to 
take her, his lips eager to meet hers, when the vision 
of another face came between; the face of one to whom 
he had made a sacred promise of love! Was he weak, 
that he could change his nationality and his sweethearts 
to accomodate his moods! He backed away, covering 
his face with an uplifted arm, and uttered a sob, “It is 

. [144] 


AGNE’S ADVICE 


too late, little girl! Forget that I sought you after the 
Mysteries, forget that I love you.’’ 

Persephone’s lips quivered as she asked faintly: 
< < Why is it too late ? ” 

He did not answer, so deep was his emotion. Sud¬ 
denly a new thought occurred to him and he asked 
roughly, ‘^That fellow who played Pluto with you, does 
he — love you ? ” 

She lowered her eyes in embarrassment as she an¬ 
swered, ^‘He has said so — but— ” 

‘‘That is enough,” Zopyrus interrupted rudely, 
“had you any — thought of accepting his attentions? 
This may seem rude to you,” he added apologetically, 
“but believe me, my motives are pure in asking you 
this.” 

Persephone looked shyly into the eyes of the man 
whom she now knew she loved more dearly than any 
other, and desiring to entice him into an avowed decla¬ 
ration of his adoration of her, she said demurely: “Cir¬ 
cumstances might favor my acceptance of the young 
man who played with me as Pluto.” 

Zopyrus ground his teeth in secret dismay. He 
knew she was innocent of the fact that her would-be- 
lover was a traitor, hut how could he, Zopyrus, who 
was in honor bound to renounce her, reveal her lover’s 
identity, and bring disappointment to the maiden’s 
heart whose longings he had heard in her own words 
but a short time ago. He could not, he felt, he like the 
dog in the manger of which Aesop had written. If he 
could not have her, he could not deny her happiness 
with another — but a traitor! Perhaps it was best that 
she should know before it was too late. He looked 

[ 145 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


again into lier eyes and opened his mouth to speak, 
then with a shrug of despair he turned and left her. 

He was gone, and so were all the celebrants hear¬ 
ing torches. The temple was now an indistinct black 
blot against the sky. No cracks and crannies were 
revealed by wavering lights! Someone touched her 
arm. It was Ague! 

‘‘Did you take my advice, dear PersephoneT’ 
whispered the woman. “Did you decide to live? Did 
you accept him?’’ 

“Did I accept whom?” asked Persephone dazedly. 
“Oh, yes—no—, I—that is he is going to take me to 
celebrate the festivities at Naxos on the second night 
of the full moon. Will you, dear Ague, go with us as 
chaperone ? ’ ’ 

Agne consented and said, “I know he loves you. 
He seemed loath to leave you just now. Do not allow 
his role as Hades to prejudice you against him.” 

Persephone felt relieved, for by Agne’s last re¬ 
mark, she knew that in the dark Agne had mistaken the 
stranger for Ephialtes. 

“You are right, Agne, I will live while I am young. 
When Ephialtes asks me for an answer at Naxos, I 
will accept him.” Persephone’s voice faltered, and 
Agne misunderstood the cause of the quavering tones. 

“I wish you, dear girl, all the happiness that 
might have been mine, had I chosen differently when I 
stood at the forks.” 


[146] 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Ephialtes^ Plot. 

“So drives self-love through just, and through unjust, 

To one man’s power, ambition, lucre, lust.” 

Pope. 

I T WAS eventide in the Agora. Booths were being 
closed for the night while merchants and customers 
were preparing to seek the comfort of their homes. 
Gradually the streets became quite deserted except for 
a few dogs whose opportunity to feast came at the 
close of day when some of the refuse from the meat 
and vegetable markets lay about the stalls. 

Cimon on his way to dine at the home of Pasicles 
nearly collided with a figure as he turned the corner 
directly in front of the shop of Aphobus, a dealer in 
jewelry and vases. After the first moment of surprise 
at meeting anyone at this hour he recognized Ephialtes. 
With a friendly nod and word of greeting he would 
have passed on his way, but Ephialtes called him by 
name and indicated that he wished to speak with him. 

‘Aly dear friend Cimon, he began, excuse me 
if I seem to intrude where your affairs are concerned, 
but after having been myself a witness to the evidence 
of your great passion for the girl Ladice, I can not but 
desire to assist you and I believe I can be of some use 
to you in attaining your heart’s desire if you will but 
listen to me.” 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Cimon detected the reek of wine upon the breath 
of Ephialtes and fought against a desire to give some 
plausible excuse and hasten on his way, but the words 
of the latter undeniably aroused his curiosity. 

‘‘Are you aware,continued Ephialtes, glancing 
about to make certain they were not heard, “that 
Ladice is now a ward of the great Themistocles. 
Ephialtes laid special emphasis upon the word “ great 
and looked keenly to note the affect of his words upon 
his listener. 

Cimon made an impatient gesture. “Do you think 
to make me jealous of a man twice my age who has 
a family of ten children, and has probably taken Ladice 
under his protection because he was a personal friend 
of her brave father who was killed at SalamisT’ 

“Indeed you misjudge me, my friend,^’ replied 
Ephialtes assuming an aggrieved air. “I had not 
thought of him in the role of lover. But while she is 
under the protection of Themistocles her mind must 
constantly be impressed by his opinions, and you know, 
yourself, that the statesman does not love you nor did 
he your father before you. And why, pray tell me, 
does Themistocles hate you? Ah, you hesitate because 
of personal modesty, but I will tell you why. It is be¬ 
cause you are likely to become his bitter rival. He 
sees in you not only qualities which he himself pos¬ 
sesses as a leader, but likewise some that you have 
inherited from your brave father. He fears to lose 
public favor, and you, would you hesitate to take for 
yourself that which he might lose ? ^ ^ 

Ephialtes could see that his words had touched 
a vulnerable spot. 


[148] 


EPHIALTES’ PLOT 


‘‘It is true,’’ replied Cimon, “that Themistocles 
would never consent to my suit, but you forget that 
Ladice does not return my atfection.” 

“With Themistocles out of the way your chances 
with his ward are far greater,” persisted the other. 
“Now I have a friend by the name of Leobotes who for 
personal reasons, dislikes the statesman so much that 
he would gladly cause his downfall. Leobotes is en¬ 
deavoring to stir up public opinion against The¬ 
mistocles and thus bring about the latter’s banishment. 
With Themistocles out of Greece forever what is to 
prevent you from stepping up into his place? And 
once there you can see realized your ambitions of 
uniting Sparta and the islands with us in an alliance, 
and at the head of hosts of faithful followers you can 
put down the revolts of our colonies. Do you think that 
with you as tyrant of Athens, Ladice would continue to 
treat you with disdain? My dear fellow,” laughed 
Ephialtes clapping him upon the shoulder, “she would 
gladly forget the disgrace in which your father died 
and would be proud to be the chosen bride of the idol 
of Athens!” 

Cimon’s vanity could no longer resist the subtle 
power of Ephialtes’ flattery. In his mind’s eye he pic¬ 
tured himself the envy of all men. He would first win 
the favor of the populace by his magnanimity, then he 
would rebuild the temples of Athens that had been 
destroyed; the Acropolis must have a splendid shrine 
to her goddess, and as Ephialtes had said, the city must 
be on friendly terms with Sparta. As he realized that 
all this which he visioned was possible of achievement 
he could scarcely hold himself in restraint. Though it 

[149] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


was already past the dinner hour at the home of the 
poet, Cimon continued talking and planning with 
Ephialtes, all else forgotten. 

‘^Come with me now and I will introduce you to 
Leobotes,’’ suggested Ephialtes, and he was amazed at 
the readiness with which the other complied. 

They threaded their way through the winding 
streets which without walks were lined on either side 
by the rough masonry of the houses. Since it was past 
the hour of the evening meal they met parties of youths 
singing and laughing and exchanging coarse jests, all 
of which was a painful reminder to Cimon of a period 
of his youth, not so long ago, that he would just as 
soon forget. 

Cimon did not trust Ephialtes, but the well con¬ 
trived scheme which the latter laid before him was 
irresistible. As they brushed by open doorways, ob¬ 
taining brief glimpses of life within or heard occa¬ 
sional snatches of conversation, an ecstatic mood 
possessed Cimon. Might not he some day possess the 
power to change the lives of these people and to put 
his name upon their lips, his name spoken in praise and 
reverence! 

As they approached one entrance, a pretty child, 
a girl of about ten years, sat upon the doorstep hold¬ 
ing in her arms a very young infant. Cimon paused, 
for he was always irresistibly drawn toward children, 
and drew aside the shawl which covered the baby’s 
face. 

‘^Oho,” he laughed bending over the tiny figure, 
‘^behold, Ephialtes, a future citizen of Athens, and 
who knows,” he added meditatively the possibilities 

[150] 


EPHIALTES’ PLOT 


that lie in that small bundle of life. What is his name, 
childr’ pinching the girPs cheek. good name 

means a good start in life.’’ 

The girl’s brown eyes flashed proudly. ‘‘We have 
given him a wonderful name. There is no better in 
Athens. We call him Themistocles. ” 

Ephialtes laughed outright and pulled at Cimon’s 
tunic. “Come,” he said, “we must hurry on — to the 
business of naming the unborn citizens of Attica.” 

The house of Leobotes was the last one before the 
widening of the street, where four other lanes like the 
fingers of a hand united at the palm, and the so-called 
“palm” was a small square beautified by an ornate 
drinking place. The two men refreshed themselves at 
the well before seeking to gain entrance at the home 
of Leobotes. The owner himself answered their knock. 

It is a peculiar thing that we are sensitive at times 
to the proximity of extremely agreeable or antagonis¬ 
tic natures, though they be out of range of sight or 
hearing. Such a feeling of repellence Cimon pos¬ 
sessed as he stood at the doorway of Leobotes, True 
he had never loved Ephialtes any too well, but there 
was a subtle charm of manner in the handsome young 
Greek that drew his victims toward him, an attraction 
that Leobotes with perhaps no baser traits of character, 
lacked. 

Leobotes was a thin man with a pointed beard of 
sandy color and shifty eyes of a nondescript pale blue 
variety. His appearance was anything but inspiring, 
and Cimon felt his previous aspirations shrivel within 
him whenever he tried to meet the evasive glance of 
this friend of Ephialtes. Leobotes, as soon as he had 

[151] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


been informed of the reason for the visit, set some 
wine before his guests and after taking a draught him¬ 
self, rubbed his hands and smacked his lips as he 
turned to Cimon, whom he had known by sight as the 
son of the hero of Marathon. 

‘‘I am a patriotic and loyal citizen,^’ he began, 
^‘and I believe in promoting that which is for the good 
of our beloved city, and I believe equally,’’ he paused 
impressively, ^Hn doing away with that which is a 
menace to Athens. Themistocles is only waiting his 
chance to sell our city and the freedom of its inhab¬ 
itants to the highest bidder. How do I know? I was 
near him at Salamis and I heard the messages he sent 
by his slave to the Persian king, to block the Greek 
ships up in the bay.” 

‘Hs it possible,” asked Cimon deeply impressed, 
‘Ghat he sent such word to Xerxes?” 

“Not only possible,” exclaimed Leobotes, “it is a 
fact. As you know that was done too,” he concluded 
with an air of satisfaction. 

“Yes it was done,” Cimon acknowledged, “but we 
won, did we not? Terror fell upon the Persians when 
they heard the loud chant of battle and the martial 
sound of trumpet from the Greek ranks and soon ships, 
Persian ships, were colliding, their oars—” 

“Yes, I know all that,” Leobotes interrupted with 
impatience, “but that was all contrary to the way 
Themistocles had planned, and I believe the purpose 
of the deed and not the result should be the cause of 
punishment to the perpetrator.” 

“If the truth were sufficient to convict him,” said 
Cimon, “I should agree with you that the motive of an 

[152] 


EPHIALTES’ PLOT 


act is of primal importance, but do you not think ban¬ 
ishment a very severe punishment unless the accusers 
can obtain the most convincing evidence against the 
accused r’ 

Leobotes smiled as he said, ^^You are aware of the 
accusations of Medism against Pausanias. The lure of 
wealth and an eastern satrapy following his victory at 
Plataea proved too attractive. Just recently a slave 
sent by him with a message to the Persian king was 
overcome by curiosity and upon reading the contents 
of the missive learned that he was to be put to death 
as soon as his message was delivered. So had all 
previous messengers between Pausanias and Xerxes 
-met their fate in order that absolute secrecy might be 
maintained. This slave returned to Greece and made 
known to the Ephors the treachery of his master. ’ ^ 
‘^What did Pausanias doP’ asked Ephialtes for 
whom the fate of a traitor possessed a peculiar fas¬ 
cination. 

Leobotes turned his pale eyes in the questioner's 
direction, and to the latter his voice sounded like the 
utterance of judgment as he replied: ^‘Pausanias fled 
just yesterday to a shrine of Poseidon in which place 
he feels secure for the present against any violence. ’ ^ 
All three were silent for a few moments. At length 
Cimon asked, ‘‘Do you believe Themistocles to be im¬ 
plicated in this plot of Pausanias T’ 

Leobotes hesitated before answering. He did not 
like the reluctance which Cimon showed in accepting 
what he, Leobotes, liked to think of as proof of 
Themistocles^ guilt. 

“It seems to me,^^ he answered evasively, “that 

[ 153 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


all men who have tasted success in battle and have won 
public favor, sooner or later succumb to an insatiable 
yearning for worldly riches and glory no matter at 
what price/’ 

‘^Now Cimon is very ditferent,” said Ephialtes 
quickly, fearing that the trend of conversation was 
beginning to defeat the purpose for which he had 
sought Leobotes’ help. ‘‘If Cimon were to succeed 
Themistocles as the leading Athenian, he would accept 
no bribery.” 

“No of course not,” agreed the older man, quick 
to comprehend the significance of the other’s remark. 
“There are some men whom one knows instinctively 
are above such deeds.” 

Feeling that this was a suitable remark for Cimon 
to ponder, he arose and refilled the empty wine goblets. 

“Well what do you propose that I should do!” 
asked Cimon after he had drained his cup. 

“Nothing for the present but talk,” answered 
Leobotes. “You are popular and influential. A word 
from you will go twice as far as a lengthy speech from 
either Ephialtes or myself.” 

“Do you really think my influence could be felt?” 
asked Cimon as he arose to leave. 

“My dear young man,” Leobotes made answer, 
and his tone was ingratiating, while at the same time he 
turned and gave a knowing nod to Ephialtes, “Much 
is expected of you as the son of a brave soldier. Your 
name is on the tongues of many, and there is only one 
man who stands between you and the highest of mor¬ 
tal attainments. Need I say more?” 


[154] 


CHAPTER XX. 

The Wakd of Themistocles. 

^‘Talk of thy doom without a sigh; 

For thou art freedom's now, and fame’s,— 

One of the few, the immortal names 
That w^ere not born to die.” 

Pitz-Greene Halleck. 

I N COMPLIANCE with a request from the hero of 
Salamis, no less a person than Themistocles him¬ 
self, Zopyrus betook himself to the home of that 
personage. The two had met frequently at public 
gatherings, and Zopyrus, influenced by the first words 
he had heard fall from the lips of Aeschylus which were 
tributes of praise to Themistocles, had since that time 
looked upon the actions and utterances of that states¬ 
man with approval. 

A servant admitted him and led him through the 
reception room to a doorway which opened into a bright 
and cheerful solarium. The statist stood with arms 
folded and head bent in reverie. Upon hearing a foot¬ 
fall he turned quickly and greeted Zopyrus with out¬ 
stretched hands. 

‘^Welcome, my young friend,’^ he cried delightedly. 
‘‘You come at a time when cheerful companionship is 
much needed. As if the cares of a nation are not 
enough, the gods are giving me more than my share 
of personal woe.’’ 


[ 155 ] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


Zopyrus seated himself in the sun-lit room and 
surveyed the luxuriant growth of potted tropical 
plants. 

^ ^ One ought never to feel sad here, ’ ^ he remarked, 
‘^hut tell me what troubles you Themistocles/’ 

will first tell you of my political worries, though 
perhaps you share the opinion of many of my former 
friends, and can anticipate what I am about to say.’^ 
can not know exactly what you wish to say, but 
I presume it has to do with the turning of popular 
favor against you.^’ 

Yes, that is at the bottom of my sorrow. Once—’’ 
here Themistocles ’ voice broke and he could not con¬ 
tinue for a moment, ‘‘once I was greatly honored and 
deservedly, Zopyrus. Do not think me a braggart to 
say so — but you will remember the favors that all 
Athens showed me after Salamis. I was and am still 
sincere in my hope for the welfare of this most glorious 
of cities, but personal enemies have sown the seeds 
of mistrust, and now former friends pass me with 
averted faces, and many cast glances of distrust. Did 
I not thwart the over-ambitious Sparta? Now the pop¬ 
ulace begins to clamor for a younger man, which is good 
and natural of course, but this young man favors an 
alliance with Sparta, and even argues that such a com¬ 
pact will be to our advantage. This young man, do 
you know him?^^ asked Themistocles with fervor. 

“I believe you mean Cimon, the son of Miltiades, 
do you not ? ^ ’ 

“The same,’’ cried Themistocles, “the son of a 
veritable rascal, so what can one expect!” 

“Personally I admire Cimon,” said Zopyrus 

[156] 



THE WARD OP THEMISTOCLES 


quietly. is a warrior, every incli of him, and I 

favor the plan of appointing him successor to Aristides 
as commander of the fleet.’’ 

‘^Then you too are against me!” cried the older 
man hotly. had counted on your friendship as an 
unswerving reality, hut I realize there is no such 
thing as human constancy.” 

Zopyrus was deeply moved. do not for one 
moment doubt your sincerity in serving Athens, and 
at the time of Salamis your policy was a wise one and 
saved Greece from a sad fate, but conditions have 
changed since Plataea. ’ ’ 

^‘Do you know,” asked the statesman leaning to¬ 
ward his young companion and lowering his tones, 
‘Ghat there were those who doubted me at Salamis 
and were ready to believe that my scheme for com¬ 
pelling the Greeks to fight was an act intended to favor 
the enemv? Had the Persians been victorious at the 
time my doom would have been sealed.” 

“Athens is too severe, too critical,” continued 
Themistocles, his voice rising in excitement. “Because 
such men as Miltiades and Pausanias become arrogant 
and selfish after Marathon and Plataea, they assume 
that I must do likewise after Salamis. This Delean 
League which is proposed by Cimon would exclude the 
Thessalians and Argives, both as you know friendly 
to us, and would substitute allies of Sparta. The 
national spirit which made the Greeks omnipotent 
against the millions of Darius and Xerxes must live 
again! Oh, Athens is temporarily blind, blind, and I 
am powerless to save her now! You are young, Zopy¬ 
rus, will you not fight this confederacy and clear my 

[157] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


name of suspicions of intrigue with Persia? Seek one 
Leobotes, an old enemy of my family, and prevent 
him from pressing against me the charge of Medism. 
Do this, my friend, and anything that is within my 
power I will do for you/’ 

will do what I can,” replied Zopyrus earnestly. 

Changing the subject he said, ^‘You have heard no 
doubt, of the fate of Pausanias?” 

‘‘I can imagine what it is, but I had not heard.” 
was informed before coming here,” said Zopy¬ 
rus, ‘Hhat starvation in the temple of Poseidon ended 
his miserable existence. As you know a wall had been 
built around the temple and armed guards stationed 
without who watched night and day. Just before the 
end came he was brought forth into the open to die 
that he might not pollute the temple. ’ ’ 

‘^Alas poor Pausanias!” cried Themistocles, ‘‘how 
relentless are those who think ill of us! You were 
guilty of the charge against you, but by the gods I 
am not! ’ ’ 

Zopyrus was deeply impressed by the grief of 
Themistocles. He put his hand into his tunic and tore 
from his throat a talisman that had hung on a slender 
chain. Thrusting it into the hand of the amazed 
Themistocles he whispered hurriedly, “I hope you may 
never need it, but should it prove necessary, this will 
make you welcome at the court of Xerxes or his suc¬ 
cessor either at Persepolis or Susa.” 

As Zopyrus finished speaking a light step was 
heard in the adjoining room, and a moment later 
Ladice entered. Upon observing another person, she 
turned and would have withdrawn had not Zopyrus 

[158] 


THE WARD OF THEMISTOCLES 


stepped forward with the words: ''Ladice have you 
so soon forgotten your rescuer? 

The girl hesitated a moment, then her features lit 
up with a pleasant smile of recognition. ‘‘I had for¬ 
gotten your name but I have told Themistocles many 
times of your bravery.’’ 

Both men gazed with masculine approval into the 
smiling gray eyes of the girl that looked out from 
beneath a halo of sunshine and copper colored hair. 

^‘So Zopyrus is your deliverer!” ejaculated The¬ 
mistocles, ^^and he is a Persian!” 

‘‘You should use the past tense there, my friend,” 
said Zopyrus with emotion, “for I have been an 
Athenian loyal and staunch ever since the death of my 
friend Masistius.” 

At the mention of the Persian’s name, Ladice 
turned her head away to hide the tears which filled 
her eyes. She sat silently while Zopyrus related the 
story of his transformation. When he had finished 
Themistocles placed his hands upon the youth’s 
shoulders. 

“You are worthy of your Athenian ancestry. If 
you can rescue me from a fate as bad in its way as 
Ladice’s threatened to be, you will be in my opinion, 
second only to Zeus himself.” 

“I will do all that I can,” said the young man 
heartily, “and will begin with my friend Cimon who 
has proved too talkative of late.” 

After Zopyrus’ departure Themistocles turned to 
his young ward and placing a hand upon her bright 
hair said, “It would greatly please me did you find 
favor in the eyes of this young Zopyrus.” 

[ 159 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Ladice blushed in painful confusion as she replied, 
^‘For some time I feel that no one can till the place 
that my brave Persian, Masistius held, besides I have 
heard it rumored that Zopyrus is to wed the daughter 
of Pasicles.’^ 

For some moments there was silence between them. 
Suddenly Themistocles said fiercely, ‘^As long as 
Cimon stays away from you, I care not to whom your 
heart may turn, even were it the son of my hated 
rival Aristides! ^ ’ 

‘^Father, for such you have been to me since 
Platsea,’’ said Ladice, her lips trembling with emotion, 
have wondered if Cimon’s animosity toward you 
is not aggravated by my coldness to him. Has it not 
occurred to you that he may consider that you alone 
are responsible for the failure of his suit? If I were 
to accept his attentions, is it not likely that he would 
discontinue his efforts to turn the Athenians against 
you ?’ ’ 

^Ht is possible, Ladice,’^ said the statesman 
sadly, ‘‘but I would under no consideration allow you 
to sacrifice your happiness for me. You are young, 
while I — perhaps it is better so!’^ 

The girl touched the hand of her foster-father with 
loving tenderness as she said: “But what if I have 
found that I do love him, but have hesitated to speak 
before, knowing as I do your justified hatred of him!^’ 
The hero of Salamis placed his hand under the 
maiden’s chin and lifted her face till he could search 
the eyes that sought to veil themselves beneath the 
sweeping lashes. His look seemed to penetrate the 
innermost recesses of her soul. She struggled to free 

[i6o] 


THE WARD OF THEMISTOCLES 


herself from the gaze that held her, as she cried be¬ 
seechingly: ^^Only believe me, Themistocles. Do you 
not see that I can marry the man I love and free you 
from the terrible disgrace which threatens jouV^ 

The man’s arms dropped to his sides and his 
mighty head sank to his breast. Ladice stepped 
away smiling for she knew his attitude was significant 
of resignation. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

In the Shadow of the Acropolis. 

‘^Oh, yet we trust that somehow good 
Will be the final goal of ill, 

To pangs of nature, sins of will, 

Defects of doubt, and taints of blood. 

Tennyson. 

Z OPYRUS bade Themistocles and Ladice farewell 
and turned his footsteps absent-mindedly to the 
house of Pasicles. As it was still early in the 
afternoon he decided to walk to the Acropolis and view 
again the spoils of the late war that were there on 
exhibition. Thinking to avoid the busy street that 
passes to the front of the Theatre of Dionysus, Zopyrus 
sought the shady but unfrequented side of the Acropo¬ 
lis. He was arrested by the sound of conversation 
punctuated with light laughter. Something familiar in 
one of the voices caused him to proceed cautiously. 

Seated upon a moss-grown ledge, the lofty wall of 
the Acropolis covered with creepers forming an artistic 
background, sat Corinna, daughter of Pasicles. Zopy¬ 
rus gazed in mute astonishment, for this coquettish 
maiden seemed a new Corinna and not the sister of the 
serious Eumetis, or the betrothed of the artist, 
Polygnotus. Leaning against the ledge and gazing up 
at the girl with steadfast attention was a florid-faced 
young man, a stranger to Zopyrus. The boldness of 

[162] 


IN THE SHADOW OF THE ACROPOLIS 


his demeanor displeased Zopyrus greatly, and he de¬ 
cided to remain where he was and investigate the 
stranger’s intentions to Corinna. 

Covering Corinna’s head was a handsome brocaded 
scarf. When the girl tossed back her head in laughter, 
the scarf slipped off and fell to the ground. The youth 
picked it up, shook otf the dust and restored it to its 
owner. Corinna joyfully received it and warmly 
thanked the young man who assured her he would de¬ 
light in rendering her a real service some day. 

Zopyrus watched the two for some time and was 
about to conclude that it was perhaps a harmless flirta¬ 
tion when the man’s face suddenly lost its expression 
of gayety and took on a serious aspect, while his eyes 
gleamed with a lustful light. 

^^My invitation of a few minutes ago was no joke, 
Corinna. Will you go with me to Naxos on the second 
night of the next full moon? You will be the queen 
of all there, you beautiful girl, with your crown of 
auburn hair.” 

Corinna drew away from the too ardent gestures. 

‘^No, I can not do that. My parents, my sister, yes 
and Polygnotus,” she added with a blush, would be 
horrified.” 

‘ ^ Do not let them know, ’ ’ persisted the man. ^ ‘ Have 
you not a sick friend who might be visited that night?” 

The maid hesitated. ^‘Give me time to think it 
over. You say there will be other girls and that the 
ceremonies are beautiful?” 

‘‘Yes indeed,” he cried eagerly, laying a hand on 
hers, “there will be others, but none so lovely as you! 
As for the artist, he is too serious to enjoy life. With 

[163] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


him, Corinna, you would soon become an old woman, 
but I am different. I enjoy life and I can make you 
so happy that the festival of Dionysus will be an event 
in your life that you will never forget. 

^‘Well I will try to arrange it so I can go. Where 
shall I meet you f ’ ^ 

‘^At the harbor of Piraeus, an hour after sunrise 

Zopyrus needed to hear no more. He hesitated 
between informing the girPs parents of what he had 
heard, and on the other hand, saying nothing about it, 
but going to Naxos himself, unknown to her, as her 
guardian. After debating the problem all the way 
home, he decided upon the latter plan as the better, in 
that it might spare Pasicles and Cleodice disappoint¬ 
ment and mortification. 


On the day following the events of the preceding 
chapter, Cimon was the recipient of a message the pur¬ 
port of which caused him to doubt the accuracy of his 
sight The note was from Ladice, the ward of The- 
mistocles, requesting him to meet her in the latter part 
of the afternoon at the mossy ledge on the east side of 
the Acropolis. Believing that it was all part of a dream 
from which he would awaken to miserable reality, 
Cimon hurried to his trysting-place with fast beating 
heart. His eyesight might still be tricking him, but 
there standing by the ledge, her figure draped in a 
gown of palest blue that revealed while yet it concealed 
the graceful lines of her form, stood Ladice, the one 
being who could raise him to the heights of Olympus 
or plunge him to the depths of Hades. The desire to 

[164] 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE ACROPOLIS 


take her in his arms was controlled so that he presented 
a calm and dignified exterior as he approached with 
the words: am here in answer to your summons, 

Ladice, and I am at your service.’’ 

She raised to his, eyes that betrayed no emotion 
either of love or hatred, as she made reply: am here 

simply to say that if you will cease in your attempt 
to bring about the ostracism of Themistocles and will 
try to undo the evil you have already committed, I 
will become your wife, otherwise my former de¬ 
cision concerning a marriage between us remains 
unchanged. ’ ’ 

Cimon could no longer doubt the truth of his 
senses. This lovely maiden whom he adored was offer¬ 
ing herself to him, body and soul, but in return for 
what? Ah yes, if he would discontinue his efforts to 
banish the one man who stood between him and the 
pinnacle of fame and fortune which had but recently 
appeared above him as possible of access. He looked 
about him wildly, while for a moment his mind seemed 
a chaos. Athens or Ladice, a city or a maid, fame or 
marital bliss! He could feel the blood throbbing at his 
temples while it seemed an eternity before he could 
speak. 

Around him lay the city that he loved, the city 
for which his father had fought and died, the home of 
his youth and the shelter of his maturing ambitions. 
Before him stood a maiden in an attempt to rescue 
whom, a friend had forfeited his life. Revenge toward 
her because he had failed to awaken in her heart the 
love for which he yearned, had caused him to first listen 
to the words of Ephialtes. Later had come the other 

[165] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


ambition. With a cry that expressed a realization of 
freedom after long confinement, Cimon stepped for¬ 
ward and took the impassive form of Ladice in his 
arms. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A Letter From Sicily. 


‘ .How beautiful, 

^‘Sublimely beautiful, thou hoverest 
High in the vacant air! Thou seemest uplifted 
From all of earth, and like an island floating 
Away in heaven. How pure are the eternal snows 
That crown thee I 

James Gates Percival. 

E ver since Zopyrus liad seen again the girl whom 
he had rescued from the Persian soldiery, he 
could think of little else. She tilled his con¬ 
scious thoughts and at night he dreamed of her, but 
he had made up his mind with stern resolution that 
he would be true to his promise to Eumetis who seemed 
to love him devotedly. The wedding had been post¬ 
poned from the end of the Mystery celebrations to 
the third night of the full moon. 

An idea came to Zopyrus while he was in the 
library copying manuscripts for Pasicles the afternoon 
following his eavesdropping near the Acropolis. If the 
marriage ceremonies were celebrated one night before, 
that is on the second night of the full moon, Corinna 
could not go to Naxos with the stranger, for she would 
be obliged to attend the nuptials of her sister. The 
idea had just impressed him as the best way to save 
Corinna, when Pasicles entered the library and placed 

[167] . 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


in Zopyrus ’ hands a missive, bearing upon its exterior 
the stamp of Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse. 

^ ‘ Do you know, ’ ^ cried the young man with delight, 
^Hhis letter is from Aeschylus! Will you not seat 
yourself and hear itl’^ 

^‘Not now,^’ replied Pasicles, ‘‘I came only to de¬ 
liver the letter into your hands and to tell you that 
the writing of an ode for the recent victor of the 
Nemean games, takes me immediately to Argolis and 
I can not possibly be back until the day of yours and 
Eumetis^ marriage.’^ 

cried Zopyrus with unconcealed dismay, 
^^can you not come the day before, as I wish to put the 
date one day ahead. ’ ^ 

Pasicles attributed Zopyrus’ disappointment to 
impatience for the approaching marriage to take place, 
and laying a fatherly hand on his shoulder smiled as 
he said: ^‘One day is short compared to eternity, my 
boy, and I shall have to hasten back to get here on the 
third night of the full moon. Farewell and give my 
regards to my brother poet when you write.” 

‘‘One day!” thought Zopyrus, “yes, it is short 
compared to eternity, but sometimes one day will deter¬ 
mine how we spend eternity! ’ ’ 

He fingered absent-mindedly the parchment which 
Pasicles had brought him, then broke the seal and read: 

“To Zopyrus at the house of the poet Pasicles in 
Athens, greetings from Aeschylus at the court of Hiero 
at Syracuse: - 

“You have been in my thoughts much of the time 
since I left our fair land. I have wondered how you 
fared at the Mysteries and if in the joys and sorrows 

[i68] 


A LETTER FROM SICILY 


of Ceres and Persephone, yon recognized lifers pleas¬ 
ures and tragedies. Happy is he who has seen these 
things and then goes beneath the earth, for he knows 
the end of life and its God-given beginning. Remember, 
my son, that death is no ill for mortals, but rather a 
good. Ceres, Persephone, Ares, Athena, Aphrodite, 
Hera, Hermes and all the others are merely personi¬ 
fications of the various aspects of divine truth and 
goodness which are in reality embodied in one supreme 
Being of whom every star of heaven, every wave of 
ocean, every leaf of the forest, every blade in the 
meadow, every rock on the shore, every grain of sand 
in the desert, is a manifestation. But I will not bore 
you with a rehearsal of my beliefs, for we shall have 
glorious opportunities when I return to Greece to dis¬ 
cuss these things at length. 

‘Hn company with the most noble Pindar whose 
lofty and dignified odes have won him considerable 
fame, and the venerable poet, Phrynichus and Simon¬ 
ides, whose poem exalting the battle of Marathon took 
first place over mine, and the nephew of Simonides, 
Bacchylides and others, I crossed the Isthmus of 
Corinth where a merchant vessel awaited us in the gulf. 
There was little to break the monotony of our trip 
through the gulf of Corinth. We skirted the northern 
coast of Achaia, stopping at Patrae* for more food. 
At noon of the third day we passed between the islands 
of Cephallenia and Zacynthus, and from then on for 
many days only the vault of the heavens and the blue 
expanse of the Ionian Sea met our gaze. Imagine then 
with what delight we first beheld the misty contours 
of land! It was not Sicily which lay before us, but the 

* The modern city of Patras. 


[169] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


southern end of the Italian peninsula. We got no 
nearer than to behold it as a long line of purple clouds, 
hut bore on to the southward until in the glow of a 
magnificent sunset, Mt. ^tna like a giant clad in crim¬ 
son and gold seemed to guard the glorious panorama 
before us. Never, my friend, have I been so impressed 
with the grandeur of nature, and so it was with my 
friends! We stood in awe together and watched the 
volcano grow gradually larger and more distinct till 
we could discern the little homes clustered about its 
sloping base, each with its patchwork of vegetable gar¬ 
dens about it. Above these, groves of olive trees, their 
grotesque trunks entwined with grape-vines, flourished 
to add their supply of olives, oil and wine to the rich 
exports of this island. Lifting our eyes still higher 
we beheld another zone of vegetation, as beautiful in 
its way as the lower ones. This wooded belt was 
densely covered with evergreen pines, birchwoods, 
oaks, red beeches and chestnuts, and was a veritable 
forest primeval. As the forest ascended the hillside 
it grew thinner and more stunted in appearance till 
only low shrubs marked its upper boundary, beyond 
which was barren rock, and then as if ^tna hoped to 
leave a favorable lasting impression, its snow-crowned 
summit stood out in dazzling relief against the roseate 
sky which marked a dying day. 

‘^This was truly a wonderful first impression of 
Sicily, but it was with no less degree of delight that 
we passed around the little island of Ortygia the next 
day, and saw for the first time the gleaming white 

[170] 


A LETTER FROM SICILY 


buildings and green parkways of Syracuse. Pindar 
called it the fairest of mortal cities. 

‘‘We were warmly welcomed by Hiero, whose chief 
avocation is the patronizing of the arts of which music, 
sculpture and painting are as highly favored as poetry. 
He spares no effort to make us feel that we are at 
liberty to discuss pro and con any subject that may 
arise. So we often sit warm evenings in the garden 
of the palace about the silvery-sprayed fountain and 
listen or give voice to various opinions. 

“It has been our pleasure to visit the temple of 
Arethusa on the island of Ortygia, where it is said the 
njmiph for whose worship the fane was erected, was 
changed to a spring to escape the unwelcome atten¬ 
tions of the river-god Alpheus who had pursued her 
as she fled underground from Sicily. 

“The city of Himera demanded some of our in¬ 
terest and attention since it was the recent scene of 
conflict and bloodshed. Hiero tells me that the 
Carthaginians under the leadership of Hamilcar were 
routed by the stratagem of Gelon, brother of Hiero and 
tyrant of Syracuse before him, on the same day that 
the battle of Salamis was fought. You were no doubt 
so interested in the affairs of Greece that the fate of 
her colonies was of minor importance. This was true 
in my case, but I have since learned that Terillus, gov¬ 
ernor of Himera, had been expelled by Theron, despot 
of Agrigentum, a flourishing city on the west coast. 
In a spirit of revenge, Terillus summoned the Phoeni¬ 
cians to attack Himera, but Gelon, hearing that the 
Carthaginians had been assured of aid by a certain 
traitorous Greek, sent a body of his own men to the 

' [171] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 

Carthaginians as if they were the promised help. This 
band of Greeks turned on the Phoenicians and held 
them at bay till others rushed in and the city was saved. 
In this conflict Hamilcar was killed. 

‘‘To the south lies a city that I love; Gela, named 
for the brave Gelon. The fields of grain and the groves 
by which it is surrounded were presumably the original 
haunts of Ceres and Persephone. It is here that I wish 
my earthly body to be laid at rest when the spirit 
has fled. 

“What of affairs at Athens? We hear that the 
shrine of Apollo at Delos is the center of the new con¬ 
federacy. I predict that Cimon will come to be a 
great representative of Hellenic unity and he will 
accomplish much through this Delian League. All this 
will be in opposition to Themistocles^ opinions, but 
Themistocles has had his day and must step aside for 
those who are younger in years and newer in ideas. 
I sincerely hope there is no truth in the rumor that 
Themistocles may be ostracized. Say a good word for 
him, Zopyrus, even if your views differ from his. 

“Of one thing more I wish to speak before I con¬ 
clude this letter, and that is of my son, Euphorion, at 
Eleusis. You remember I told you I lost a son at 
Thermopylae, but I did not tell you of my other son 
two years his brother’s junior. It would please me 
greatly to have you call and see him. I have told him 
of you. You will have much in common, for the lad 
shows the same love of poetry and philosophy that I 
do, and has vowed from babyhood that he will follow 
his father’s profession. I know you would enjoy such 

[172] 


A LETTER FROM SICILY 


a visit to Eleusis especially since your initiation into 
the Mysteries. 

^‘Remember me to the noble Pasicles and his 
family. The length of our sojourn in Sicily has not 
been decided, and I shall probably write you again 
before I leave. If you find time I shall be interested 
in hearing from you in regard to yourself and also 
affairs of state. May the blessing of the One rest 
upon you. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 
The Festivities At Naxos. 


“Now measuring forth with Attic grace 
(Like figures round a sculptured vase) 

The accent of some mythic song, 

Now hurled, a Baccic group along.” 

Aubrey de Vere. 

T he sun was scarcely an hour above the horizon 
when seven skiffs in festive regalia left the har¬ 
bor of Piraeus southward bound. Six of them were 
filled with youths and maidens bedecked with flowers. 
Across the serene blue where scarcely a ripple was per¬ 
ceptible, the voices of the merry-makers floated, return¬ 
ing in echoes from the temples of marble, gleaming 
white on the naked promontories. The seventh boat 
was laden with goats intended as sacrificial offerings 
to the god Dionysus at his temple on the island of 
Naxos. 

Ephialtes and Persephone, accompanied by Ague, 
whom Persephone has insisted upon taking as chap¬ 
erone, were seated in the foremost vessel. Persephone 
sat at the prow gazing out across the waters. Her 
tunic and skirt were of pale blue trimmed with golden 
brocade of an intricate pattern. Her brown-gold hair 
lay in waves over her temples which were encircled by 
a plain gold band from which hung a chaplet of 
sapphires, lying on her forehead. 

[ 174 ] 


THE FESTIVITIES AT NAXOS 


To Ephialtes she had never appeared more beauti¬ 
ful. He thought of the evening that they had glided 
in this manner off Salamis. He intended to ask her 
the same question, hoping she had long since forgotten 
the request she had made of him. He turned fre¬ 
quently with ill-concealed annoyance toward Agne who 
sat at Persephone’s left. Ephialtes felt that now as 
in the Mystery drama they were Hades, Ceres and 
Persephone; that Ceres strove to keep her daughter 
under her protection, and like Hades he desired to 
snatch her from the maternal arms and keep her for his 
own. He did not know that Agne’s advice had been 
favorable to his suit. Had he been acquainted with 
this fact he might have been more tolerant of the older 
woman. 

As the afternoon wore on, a light breeze stirred 
the waters into wavelets which gently lapped the shores 
of various islands of the Cyclades which they passed; 
islands filled with sanctuaries and fanes of white 
marble which gleamed ghost-like in the gathering dusk. 
At length the moon loomed colossal beyond the island 
of Paros, throwing up contours into misty and spectral 
relief, and softening all things with its touch of silver. 

The festive boats passed Paros, with its temple to 
Poseidon, the occupants gazing ahead in eager antici¬ 
pation till the rocky promontories of Naxos arose 
darkly from the pathway of phosphorescence, then with 
one impulse from every throat hurst the hymn to 
Dionysus. Nearer and nearer came the celebrants, 
loftier grew the cliffs of the island and louder echoed 
the paean until at last the boats drew up one by one 
in a sheltered cove. 


[ 175 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Dense foliage grew close to the steep pathway, the 
ascent of which was facilitated by steps cut in the soil 
or formed naturally by the exposed roots of trees. 
Through the branches the newcomers could see the 
lights, twinkling as people passed to and fro — then the 
white columns and the pleasing proportions of the 
temple came into view. 

Persephone, Ephialtes and Agne were the first 
arrivals of -the first boat, and made their way un¬ 
hindered to the temple which they entered, mingling 
with the delirious throng whose acclamations rang 
through the great hall. It seemed to the arrivals from 
Athens that every inhabitant of Naxos was here cel¬ 
ebrating. 

A great gong silenced the sound of talking and 
laughter after all the Athenians had arrived. A cur¬ 
tain at the end of the cella dropped revealing the image 
of the god of wine and revelry and immediately a 
hymn of praise was sung following which the sacrifice 
of a goat was consummated at the feet of the idol. 

Night was turned into day, wine flowed freely and 
many a youth’s spirits rose in proportion to the amount 
of wine he imbibed. To all this revelry Persephone and 
Ague were horrified witnesses. They had heard that 
Dionysus was worshipped with much rejoicing, espe¬ 
cially at his temple at Naxos, but they had not had 
occasion to realize to what depths his worshippers 
sometimes fell. The two women looked furtively about 
seeking some way in which they might escape un¬ 
observed to the boats where for a few drachmas a 
couple of rowers would take them back to the mainland. 
They crouched near a pillar watching with increasing 

[ 176 ] 


THE FESTIVITIES AT NAXOS 


terror, wine-filled creatures who caroused around them. 
Many a youth lounged upon a couch or the flower- 
strewn floor, his head in some fair one’s lap. 

Ephialtes made his way with unsteady step to 
where the two women cowered. The Greek blood which 
ran in his veins preserved his grace even in drunk- 
eness. Laughingly he held toward each a goblet of 
sparkling wine which they declined. In provocation 
he accidentally spilled the contents of the cup proffered 
to Persephone. For an instant he stood dismayed 
watching the blood-like liquid as it flowed over the 
marble floor, then with frenzied determination, he 
forced between the lips of Agne the wine contained in 
the other goblet, after which he stood swaying un¬ 
steadily with folded arms, a sinister smile curling his 
handsome lips. Persephone determined to flee but she 
did not want to leave Agne at the mercies of the 
drunken brutes around them. 

‘^Come, come, Agne,” she whispered wildly, ^^You 
and I never dreamed what would be the nature of this 
celebration — oh, Agne! ’ ’ 

The older woman made an attempt to answer and 
even to rise to her feet, but in vain! In another instant 
she sank in a pitiful heap, apparently lifeless. Per¬ 
sephone ’s temples throbbed with angry passion as she 
turned toward Ephialtes. 

There was a narcotic in that wine! I am glad 
mine was spilled.” 

^ ^ There was no drug in yours, Persephone. I did 
not bring you here to put you to sleep. It is a living 
maiden I want!” cried the young Greek passionately. 

He lurched toward her to take her in his arms, 

[ 177 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 

but she eluded his grasp and he found himself embrac- \ 
ing the fluted pillar near which she had sat. A chance 
observer roared with laughter, and calling to his com¬ 
panions cried, king of revelers here, my friends. 
What say you to crowning him as Bacchus I Down with 
the god of stone and up with one of flesh and blood! ^ ’ 

So saying he and his male companions ran to the 
throne where the stone Dionysus sat. With unnatural 
strength due to the freeness of their imbibing, they 
tore the god from his throne and forced the half re¬ 
luctant Ephialtes upon it. The wreath of grape leaves 
which had adorned the head of Dionysus, was rudely 
snatched from it and placed upon the young man^s 
curls. 

After Ephialtes was ceremoniously enthroned, 
someone cried out, ‘‘where is Ariadne? Bacchus must 
have his Ariadne! Where did she go? Bring her 
back!^ ^ 

This appeal was answered by a rapturous shout, 
and several youths started in pursuit, returning 
shortly, dragging Persephone with them. 

“Bacchus shows good taste,’’ cried one. “She is 
surely a rival of the maiden whom Theseus deserted on 
these very shores!” 

“Up with her,” cried another,” she must occupy 
the throne with him. She shall be his queen.” 

“That she shall!” cried Ephialtes, his courage re¬ 
turning as he beheld the beautiful frightened face of 
the girl whom he loved. 

He stooped from the throne and lifted in his arms 
the form of the now unconscious girl. Across her 
marble-white forehead strands of loosened hair 

[178] 



THE FESTIVITIES AT NAXOS 


streamed. The soft blue light from the circlet of 
sapphires which lay on her cold brow, contrasted 
strangely with the ruddy brilliance of a ruby clasp 
which adorned the hair of Ephialtes above his passion- 
flushed countenance. He received a goblet of wine 
which had been proffered to him and put it to the lips 
of the fainting maiden. The draught brought her back 
to consciousness, and she gazed dazedly about, then 
suddenly the horror of her situation came upon her. 
With an agonized cry she rose to flee but was seized 
roughly by Ephialtes who, impassioned, leaned over 
her, covering her face and throat with burning kisses. 


[ 179 ] 


CHAPTER XXIV. 
Dionysus and Abiadne. 


.Far in the east 

The Aegean twinkles, and its thousand isles 
Hover in mist, and round the dun horizon 
Are many floating visions, clouds, or peaks, 

Tinted with rose!’^ 

James Gates Percival. 

T he second day of the full moon arrived. All 
necessary preparations had been made for the 
marriage ceremony of Eumetis and Zopyrus 
which would take place on the following day. 

Corinna approached her mother as the latter stood 
near the altar of Zeus, in conversation with the pros¬ 
pective bride and bridegroom. 

^ ‘ Mother, ’ ’ said the girl. ^ ‘ I have just learned that 
my dear friend Gorgo is ill and wishes me to go imme¬ 
diately and spend the night with her. I will be back 
for the wedding tomorrow.^’ 

Cleodice ^s eyes shone with maternal approval as 
she surveyed the eager, youthful face so like her own. 
‘‘What will Polygnotus sayP^ asked Eumetis. 
“Oh he will recover from the effects of one even¬ 
ing spent outside of my presence,^’ replied her sister 
indifferently. 

Zopyrus stood silently by. He had been grievously 
disappointed and shocked at Corinna’s duplicity, and 

[i8o] 



DIONYSUS AND ARIADNE 


had hoped that before the fateful day arrived she would 
repent of her former decision and abandon the pro¬ 
posed trip to Naxos with the stranger. However her 
present conversation with Cleodice assured him that 
she hung tenaciously to her original purpose. 

‘^By all means spend the night with your sick 
friend, Corinna,^’ said a voice from the entryway, and 
turning the four beheld the young artist who had 
heard the conversation unobserved by the others. 

Zopyrus greeted Polygnotus heartily. He thought 
at first to apprise him secretly of Corinna’s proposed 
trip to Naxos, but upon second thought he decided that 
there might be a better way of preventing the girl from 
committing such a folly without grieving her lover. 
The deep sincere eyes of the artist rested a moment in 
loving regard upon the face of Corinna who flushed 
deeply, turning demurely away. Her mother and sis¬ 
ter each placed an arm lovingly about her, and the 
three women left the atrium. 

When they were gone Polygnotus turned enthusi¬ 
astically to Zopyrus and said: ‘H have good news! 
Cimon has just been made commander of the fleet, and 
is contemplating visiting Sparta with Alcmaeon in be¬ 
half of the alleged confederacy.^^ 

^Wour news is pleasing to my ear, and I rejoice 
with you and Cimon — but,^’ Zopyrus glanced about 
and lowered his voice to a whisper. ^‘Will you not 
speak well to Cimon of Themistocles and ask him to do 
his utmost to put do\vn this charge of Medism against 
the statesman?’’ 

mil do what I can,” replied Polygnotus. 

Cimon is more a warrior than a statesman. His 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


methods are direct and bold, often sadly lacking in 
diplomacy. He believes that when a man has served 
his purpose in life and is no longer useful to the com¬ 
munity in which he dwells and may even become a 
detriment to those whom he once served, he should be 
cast aside as one would shed a worn garment when its 
season of beauty and service is past. Cimon and 
others like him also believe that when maturity of age 
is passed and the power of decision begins to wane, the 
very burden of long experience perplexes the mind and 
engenders doubt and fear instead of confidence. Will 
you come with me this evening to the home of Cimon 
to congratulate him upon his success and to speak a 
good word for Themistocles ? But I had forgotten — 
tomorrow you will wed, and possibly you have ar¬ 
rangements to make in regard to the ceremonies. 
Corinna and I are to follow your example before long, 
but Cleodice does not wish to lose two daughters at 
once, and Eumetis is the older. ’ ’ 

am delighted to hear that your marriage will 
take place soon. I must be going now as I have a duty 
to fulfill,^’ said Zopyrus as he turned to go. 


Not long after this conversation a chance observer 
might have seen a young man of aristocratic bearing, 
crisp blond curls and noble face, walking with elastic 
strides toward Piraeus. He was clad in the short dress 
of a laborer, called an exomis, and upon his head was 
a narrow-brimmed, close-fitting cap. As he neared the 
harbor he proceeded cautiously, desirous of observing 
all that was taking place without being seen. To his 

[182] 



DIONYSUS AND ARIADNE 


consternation he saw that three boats with their occu¬ 
pants had already been launched upon the sea. Vexed 
with himself for having arrived so late he scanned the 
people who remained upon the shore waiting to be 
assigned to other boats. It was almost unbelievable 
but it was true! The sun unmistakably revealed a head 
of auburn hair and close to it the bullet-head and thick 
florid neck of a young man. Zopyrus, for it was he 
who clad in the woolen exomis instead of his customary 
linen chiton, watched the two closely, pulled the brim 
of his cap well over his eyes and approached the wait¬ 
ing youths and maidens. Several he recognized as the 
sons and daughters of prominent Athenians. Another 
filled boat was leaving, the rowers diligently plying the 
oars. It was apparent that Corinna and the heavy-set 
youth would be of the number to fill the next boat. 
Disguising his walk, Zopyrus made his way quickly to 
the waiting skitf and approached one of the oarsmen. 

‘‘Ten drachmas for you if you will let me take 
your place at the oars, ^ ’ he said in a low tone. ■ 

The fellow looked amazed, prepared to turn his 
back upon Zopyrus, then suddenly thought better of 
the offer. He put forth his hand and when to his sur¬ 
prise the coins fell into his upturned palm, he sprang 
free of his seat and ran to the shore leaving his place 
at the oars free to the generous stranger. 

Zopyrus took the vacant place and had not long 
to wait before the young people filled the waiting boat. 
In unison with his fellow oarsmen, Zopyrus assailed the 
task briskly, and soon the graceful little skitf was well 
out into the harbor. The first boat was a mere speck 
near the horizon to the south as the one in which 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


Corinna was a passenger, emerged from the entrance 
of the harbor. Zopyrus was grateful for the oppor¬ 
tunity for strenuous physical exercise. It took his 
mind oft of his own sorrow. He realized presently that 
he was listening unconsciously to the conversation of 
two men. 

‘‘What did you say were the names of the seven 
boats that left for Naxosasked one. 

“They are named for seven goddesses or nymphs,’^ 
replied the other, “Doris, Leucothea, Metis, Aegle, 
Amphitrite, Doto and Persephone. This one is the 
‘Persephone.’ ” 

Zopyrus let his oars drift when he heard the last 
statement. Was the vision or name of Persephone to 
haunt him throughout life? When he was on land the 
leaves on the trees seemed to whisper “Persephone,” 
and now on the water, the boat in which he sat bore 
her name, and the ripples that washed its sides mur¬ 
mured the beloved accents. 

The afternoon wore on, the sun’s rays became 
more slanting and the boats glided across the water 
like silent spirits. At length night descended upon the 
water — hut no, it was growing brighter. Where but 
a few moments before the hills of distant Paros had 
slept on the edge of the darkness, now curve on curve 
was silhouetted against the silvery light of the moon, 
and the ripple of the oars on the water made a sheet 
of phosphorescence in its shadowy depths. 

When Paros was passed, from across the water 
there floated on the gentle breeze the Dionysian hymn, 
sung by the occupants of the four preceding boats. 
Those in the “Persephone” joined in the chant, and 

[184] 


DIONYSUS AND ARIADNE 


Zopyrus heard Corinna’s pure, soft tones mingling 
strangely with the harsh notes of her companion. 

As the prow touched the bank Zopyrus sprang 
from his seat eager to set foot on land, but he was 
checked by the glances of indignant remonstrance cast 
upon him not only by his fellow oarsmen, but by the 
others as well. He turned his face quickly into the 
shadow fearing to be recognized by some of the youths 
and maidens of Athens, but his fears proved ground¬ 
less. After the boat had been emptied of the Bac¬ 
chanalians, Zopyrus quietly stepped ashore, sauntering 
leisurely till beyond the range of vision of the oarsmen, 
who if they intended observing the rites of Bacchus, 
preferred to bide their time. Once out of their sight 
and hearing, Zopyrus quickened his pace, keeping well 
protected by the bushes and tree-trunks that lined the 
path, till he paused in awe as there appeared in a clear¬ 
ing to the left before him, the white Ionic columns and 
chaste lines of the Temple to Dionysus. Alas that its 
spotless purity was defiled by the wild orgies within! 
Its portals were thronged with gay devotees, and the 
sound of laughter and singing blended with the tones 
of flute and barbiton. 

By now, indifferent to his plebeian dress, Zopyrus 
traversed the moon-lit sward to the temple and mingled 
with the light-hearted revelers. Groups of celebrants 
raised their voices in jubilant song, but here and there 
detached couples, their faces stamped with passion and 
lust, made horrible the scene. Now and then a hetera 
with appealing glance passed close to where Zopyrus 
stood like a statue, too horrified too move. The muscles 
of his mouth were drawn and his face was haggard. 

[185] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


He suffered complete inertia till the sight of a girl who 
reminded him of Corinna aroused him from his 
lethargic state and he set out to find her before it was 
too late, for he knew that she had been ignorant of the 
nature of the revelries. 

He pressed on down the length of the ceMa, scru¬ 
tinizing the face of every maiden, but he did not see 
Corinna. As he neared the throne of Dionysus, the 
sound of triumphant acclamations, poured from the 
throats of a hundred devotees and Bacchantes who 
stood about the throne, fell upon his ears. He pushed 
his way nearer to the front, receiving many rebuffs and 
scornful glances because of his mean attire. 

‘‘What is the excitement!’’ he asked of a young 
man. 

You can see for yourself,” was the surly reply. 
“Dionysus has turned to flesh and blood and shares 
the throne with Ariadne! ’ ’ 

Zopyrus forced his way onward till he could see 
the throne. He stood a moment as if petrified, then 
with a few swift strides he was alone before the royal 
seat, gazing with death-white countenance at Dionysus 
and Ariadne. 


r 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A Revelation. 

^‘Bacchus, Bacchus! on the panther 
He swoons, — bound with his own vines! 

And his Maenads slowly saunter, 

Head aside, among the pines. 

While they murmur dreamingly,— 

’Evohe — ah — evohe — ! 

Ah, Pan is dead.’’ 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

Z OPYRUS stood with arms folded, his noble head, 
perfect stature and dignified bearing appearing 
most incongruous with the exomis he wore. 
From across his folded arms he looked straight at the 
mortal Dionysus, till the latter, feeling his impelling 
gaze, looked up and flushed guiltily, though the man 
who surveyed him so coldly was to him a total stranger. 
Zopyrus walked to the throne, thrust the false Dionysus 
rudely aside, seized the amazed Persephone in his arms 
and tried to force his way through the crowd with her, 
but the indignant remonstrances of the crowd made 
futile his etforts. 

^‘Down with him for violating the privileges of the 
god!^’ cried one. 

This outburst was followed with vociferous cries 
of, ^‘Take Ariadne from him! ‘‘Throw him out!’^ 
“Beat him!^’ 

[187] 


/ 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


By this time Ephialtes had recovered his com¬ 
posure. The appearance of the stranger had in¬ 
explicably discomposed him and the attack had roused 
his ire, but now conscious of his costly garb in con¬ 
trast to his assailant ^s attire, he stood before the 
throne and in imperious tones demanded the return of 
Ariadne, as he called her. 

Zopyrus released the girl from his embrace and 
asked: ‘ ‘ Do you wish to return to Pluto I ’ ’ 

For answer she stepped closely to Zopyrus’ side 
and clung tenaciously to his arm. He gazed long into 
the depths of eyes that matched the blue of her gown 
and the sapphires upon her brow. The color mounted 
to her temples, and as she bowed her head he noticed 
that the rosy flush likewise suffused her neck and 
shoulders which were partially visible through the 
golden strands of loosened hair. 

Ephialtes was infuriated by Persephone’s refusal 
to return to him, and was nonplussed as to what method 
he had best employ to obtain the maiden, when there 
flashed through his mind the words of a sentence; ‘^On 
the day that you deliver to Greece the traitor of 
Thermopylae, I will become your wife.” 

Straightening himself to his full height Ephialtes 
commanded the attention of the audience. 

am about to make a revelation that will return 
Ariadne to me, I believe,” he said smiling with 
arrogant confidence. ‘^The man to whom Ariadne 
clings and is no doubt one of our oarsmen, is no other 
than he who betrayed your country to the Persians be¬ 
fore the battle of Thermopylas. Greece has long sought 
him fellow countrymen, and yonder he stands, defiling 

[a88] 


A REVELATION 


with his touch the maiden who plays the part of Per¬ 
sephone at the Mysteries of Eleusis. What will you do 
with him f ’ ^ 

‘‘Kill him!’^ came the cry from hundreds of 
throats, and with one accord the angry mob rushed 
toward Zopyrus. 

“Just one moment please,’’ said Ephialtes. “I 
will wait for Ariadne, or Persephone of Eleusis, to 
join me on the throne.” 

He paused impressively, but Persephone did not 
move. 

“What,” he cried in indignation, “Did you not 
promise to become my bride when Thermopylag’s 
traitor would be revealed by me 1 ’ ’ 

Persephone walked slowly toward Ephialtes who 
stretched forth eager arms to receive her, but she 
stopped a few paces before him and on her face was 
an inscrutable smile. 

“Not so fast, Ephialtes. I want the proof. You 
dare not make such a statement without sufficient evi¬ 
dence against him.” 

Ephialtes was confused. He had not had enough 
time to make up false testimony, but he knew that his 
future happiness depended now upon how successfully 
he placed the blame of his guilt upon the innocent man 
before him. 

“Hear me,” he said, “and I will tell you the cir¬ 
cumstances.” 

“Your testimony can avail naught, for my pro¬ 
tector here is a native Persian who knows nothing of 
the mountain passes of Greece,” said Persephone in 
a voice that rang clearly as a bell through the great 

[189] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


hall. A death-like stillness pervaded the cella; nought 
was heard but the sharp intake of Ephialtes’ breath, 
then from his lips there burst in stentorian tones: ^^If 
this be true, a Persian in our midst is as deserving of 
death as a traitor! Friends will you allow him even 
so much as to touch the Persephone of the Mysteries 
At this Persephone became alarmed and feared 
lest in her ardent desire to defend her protector, she 
had only made matters worse. Zopyrus, seeing her 
agitated countenance, smiled reassuringly and raised 
his arm to command general attention. A few rabid 
revelers rushed forward to do violence to his person 
but were checked by a voice in the throng: ‘ ‘ Hear him! 
No man should be condemned without being permitted 
to say a word in his own behalf. ^ ’ 

The furious denunciations of the intolerant ones 
subsided, and Zopyrus turned and walked slowly to¬ 
ward Ephialtes who gradually retreated before the 
compelling gaze of his antagonist, till he reached the 
throne upon which he sat, quite unconscious of what 
he did. Zopyrus^ demeanor changed instantly. He 
bowed low before the amazed man upon the throne and 
said with impressive solemnity: 

Xerxes, King of the Medes and Persians and 
would-be conqueror of the world, I come to you with 
an important message. For two days your soldiers 
have been defeated by the Greeks at the entrance of 
the pass of Thermopylae. The Greeks are so inferior 
in number that right now is the time to strike, but not 
in the method heretofore employed. The Greeks are 
well trained, and if they are to be conquered, it must 
be by the greater forces of the enemy. Listen, 0 

[190] 


A REVELATION 


Xerxes! If you would succeed in overwhelming the 
enemy, you must attack from behind, but this you can 
not do since you are not acquainted with this wild, im¬ 
passable country. I am a native Malian and well ac¬ 
quainted with this locality. If you will make it worth 
my while, I will show you a mountain pass that will 
lead you to the rear of Leonidas’ army unobserved.” 

During the Persian’s recital, Ephialtes’ behavior 
had undergone many mutations. From startled curi¬ 
osity to fearful apprehension, thence to genuine fright 
and finally to abject terror, his demeanor had rapidly 
changed. By the time the Persian had ceased speak¬ 
ing, the Greek’s face was as livid as a corpse. 

Zopyrus sprang to the side of the doomed man 
and clutching him by either shoulder cried, Speak, 
traitor of Thermopylae. What have you to say for 
yourself ? ’ ’ 

For answer Ephialtes drew from the folds of his 
robe a ruby handled dagger which he raised for a 
death-dealing thrust at Zopyrus, but the latter, free 
from the influence of wine, was the quicker, and caught 
his enemy’s arm in its lightning-like descent, thus 
warding off the blow that might have been fatal. 

A muttering that grew to a rumble and then to a 
mighty roar that shook the very pillars of the temple 
was heard, and with one impulse an angry mob rushed 
toward the dais. Above the din and confusion a voice 
screamed: Death to the traitor who opened the gate¬ 
way to Greece! Upon his head and no other rests the 
loss of our homes and the deaths of our fathers and 
brothers.” 

Zopyrus drew the half fainting form of Persephone 

[191] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


to his side and with one strong arm gave her bodily 
support and with the other forced a passage through 
the enraged crowd down the length of the cella. At 
the door they turned and looked back toward the throne 
which was completely hidden from their sight by the 
oscillating wave of humanity which hovered about it 
and its ill-fated occupant. 

Shuddering with horror they rushed out into the 
darkness. The cool breeze from across the water re¬ 
vived their benumbed senses. As they sped along the 
pathway which led to the shore, the drunken figure of 
a man emerged from a clump of bushes to their left. 
Zopyrus would have ordinarily paid no heed, as the 
man was in type a duplicate of hundreds of others 
within the temple, but something familiar in the drunk¬ 
ard ^s appearance caused him to pause and take a sec¬ 
ond look, and in doing so he recognized beyond the 
question of a doubt the coarse companion of Corinna. 
His conscience smote him as he remembered that al¬ 
though he had come to Naxos for the very purpose of 
serving as Corinna’s protector, he had abandoned her 
to whatever fate might befall when he had seen Per¬ 
sephone in distress. 

He seized Persephone’s hand and said hastily: 
^‘Come with me. We must find Corinna.” 

^‘Ho you mean Corinna the daughter of the poet 
Pasicles?” asked Persephone. 

‘^The same,” he replied, ‘‘Ho you know her?” 

The girl nodded. The young man continued talk¬ 
ing as they hurried on in the direction whence the 
rough man had appeared. “She came to Naxos in the 
company of that brutish-looking man we met and I 

[192] 


A REVELATION 


intended to protect her, but you know the result! When 
I saw you, you were in dire need of help and I could 
no more have left you to suffer at the hands of that 
traitor than I did that day on the Acropolis when the 
Persian, Artabazus would have harmed you.^’ 

He turned half timidly to her, ashamed of his 
adoration for her whom he now had no right to desire; 
for the image of a pure and noble maiden stood be¬ 
tween them. 

‘^Tell me how you knew Ephialtes to be the man 
who betrayed Greece at Thermopylae,^’ she asked. 

Zopyrus related in detail the episode of his eaves¬ 
dropping in the tent of Xerxes, and Persephone was 
about to tell why Ephialtes had been so eager to accuse 
someone of being the traitor at Thermopylae, when a 
white form, partially concealed by undergrowth a few 
paces before them, attracted their attention simultane¬ 
ously. 

Zopyrus sprang ahead and dropped to his knees 
beside the prone figure of a girl which he discovered 
lay in the stillness of death. Something cold seemed 
to grip his heart and everything about him seemed to 
melt into a whirling cloud! With a faint cry of anguish 
he lost consciousness just as Persephone ran up to him. 
She bent over him and looked into the lifeless face of 
the girl. 

It was Corinna, the daughter of Pasicles! 


[193] 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


The Home of Aeschylus. 

‘‘Gone, and the light gone with her, 

And left me in shadow here! ’ ’ 

Tennyson. 

T he god Hymen did not have charge of the cer¬ 
emonies at the home of Pasicles: the goddess 
Mors officiated in his stead! Corinna was laid 
away in her eternal rest, and the house and garden that 
had often echoed the sound of her gay laughter were 
silent! Even the boy Mimnermus, tip-toed about in 
awful solitude, gravely impressed by this, his first 
experience with death. 

Polygnotus was a daily visitor, whose calm dig¬ 
nity combined with his kindly sjnnpathy, made him an 
ever welcome one. For Zopyrus he felt a genuine love 
which had hut recently developed from his former fel¬ 
lowship and friendly regard. One an artist, the other 
a poet by natural inclination, they understood each 
other upon the ground of their common adoration for 
all that was beautiful and true and good whether rep¬ 
resented by picture or by word. 

One day, several weeks after the tragic occurrences 
at Naxos, Zopyrus happened to come upon the letter 
which his beloved friend, Aeschylus, had written him 
from Sicily, and it reminded him of the poet’s request 

[194] 


THE HOME OF AESCHYLUS 


that he visit his young son at Eleusis, so without fur¬ 
ther delay he set out mounted upon a richly caparisoned 
steed, lent him for the occasion by Cimon. As he 
passed through the Dipylon Gate he became aware for 
the first time that heavy storm clouds were rapidly 
gathering ahead of him, but having arrived thus far on 
his journey, he did not wish to return. The broad road 
that always stretched peacefully into the distance a 
winding silver band, was now hazy with whirling eddies 
of dust; and the usually tranquil branches of the olive 
trees on either side were bending and swaying under 
the force which Boreas exerted upon them. 

The storm with all it fury did not burst upon him 
till he had passed the fountain of Kallichoros at which 
place he might have secured shelter. With his eyes on 
distant Eleusis he pressed on toward his goal gradually 
becoming unmindful of his soaking garments, and of the 
fact that a numbness was taking possession of his fac¬ 
ulties. 

Aeschylus had once described his home to Zopyrus 
as being the first abode west of the great temple, and 
Zopyrus gasped with delight as the classical outlines 
of a home typical of the upper-class citizen of Attica 
burst upon his sight. A high wall enclosing a garden 
space lay between the temple precinct and the home of 
the poet. As he entered the gate, a life-sized statue of 
the goddess Demeter, bearing in her arm a sheaf of 
corn stood at the edge of the garden to his right, and 
near by in marble stood the cheerful fun-loving figure 
of the faithful lambe, who sought to alleviate her 
mistress’ sorrow. But that which caught his eye and 
held it was a fountain in the center of which was a 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


most artistic composition representing the rape of 
Persephone. The faces chiselled in the cold marble 
were so like the faces of Ephialtes and Persephone that 
Zopyrus stood spellbound, unmindful of the fact that 
a slave was approaching him and bidding him enter, 
saying that his horse would be placed at once in the 
stable. 

Zopyrus approached the door and found himself 
gazing into the half curious, half laughing face of a lad 
of sixteen, who said while he gripped Zopyrus’ arm 
heartily: ‘‘I know who you are, for father told me you 
were coming. But pray why did you choose such a 
day as this in which to pay a call?” 

take it that you are Euphorion, the son of my 
most esteemed friend. I did not expect the storm to 
break so soon, or I should not have undertaken the 
trip.” 

Euphorion surveyed his guest’s wet garments with 
disfavor. 

‘^You must get into dry clothes,” he said. ‘‘You 
are shuddering now with the cold. “Lycambes,” he 
called to a servant, “take this man to my father’s 
room and give him dry clothing. ’ ’ 

Zopyrus emerged from the upper chamber dry but 
not comfortable, for his head felt as though a fire 
burned in his brain, while his hands and feet were 
numb. Euphorion had disappeared and in his stead a 
young girl in white sat on the edge of the marble basin 
of a fountain, industriously engaged in a work of em¬ 
broidery. She looked up as Zopyrus entered and the 
latter as his eyes rested on her, thought he must be 
suffering delirium, for it seemed he beheld Persephone! 

[196] 


THE HOME OF AESCHYLUS 


Zopyrus moistened his lips and he cleared his 
throat so that his voice would be audible. 

^^Who are you and what are you doing here?^’ he 
asked scarcely above a whisper. 

The girl laughed coyly and toyed for a moment 
with her piece of fancy-work while Zopyrus advanced 
toward her a step. Then she raised her blue eyes in 
whose depths Zopyrus read the same love-message that 
he had at Salamis and at the Mysteries. 

am exactly who I appear to be/’ she said. 
am Persephone of Eleusis. This is my home and—” 

Zopyrus, eyes bright with the unnatural luster of 
a fever, echoed her words as she finished: ^‘Aeschylus 
is my father. ’ ’ 

She threw back her head and tossed her curls and 
before she realized what was about to happen, Zopyrus 
held her in his arms, kissing her again and again the 
while he murmured: love you Persephone, but I am 

a Persian and must return to the encampment at 
Phalerum. Salamis is saved — listen to the Hymn to 
Dionysus! Can you find your way in safety to your 
people? — Hear the chant—” 

Persephone felt his hold upon her relax, and 
though she tried to keep him from falling, he slipped 
from her grasp and sank unconscious to the floor. 

‘^Euphorion! Euphorion!” screamed the terrified 
girl. ‘ ‘ He is ill! Call Lycambes and together you must 
carry him to father’s chamber and there make him 
comfortable till I can summon a physician.” 

His exposure to the storm, and the shock of find¬ 
ing Persephone and learning her identity, had proved 
too much for Zopyrus in his state of mental depression 

[ 197 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


and low ebb of vitality due to the Naxian tragedy. For 
days he lay upon the couch of Aeschylus alternating 
between chills and raging fever. In his delirium he 
raved, and his listeners wondered at the names of 
Persephone and Eumetis heard interchangeably to fall 
from his lips. Pasicles, Cleodice and Eumetis were 
frequent visitors till the crisis was past and Zopyrus 
was a convalescent. 

Upon one occasion a few days before Zopyrus ex¬ 
pected to be able to undertake the journey back to 
Athens, he and Persephone were seated in the garden. 
The statues of Ceres and lambe stood in their accus¬ 
tomed places, but the Hades and Persephone had 
disappeared. Zopyrus asked no question for he felt 
that Persephone was fully justified in her dislike for 
that particular work of art, beautiful though it was. 

‘^Tell me,^’ he said as they gazed across the ivy- 
covered wall to where the sun ^s rays illumined the top 
of the temple, ‘‘is your name really Persephone, or are 
you so called because of your part in the Mysteries 

“My parents named me Persephone, hoping even 
at my birth that some day I Avould play the part of 
Persephone in the temple. I have fulfilled their hopes 
in that respect.’^ 

“You are adorable in the part, little Persephone, 
and some time a real Pluto will come and carry you off 
to his realm. If I — that is — sometime — Oh, Perse¬ 
phone, I have no right to say it, but I adore you, and 
if you will consent to marry me, I will arrange other 
matters that might interfere. 

“I believe I know the ‘other matters,^ Zopyrus, 
said the girl, not daring to meet his gaze. “Eumetis 

[198] 


THE HOME OF AESCHYLUS 


loves you, and there has been some understanding be¬ 
tween you. Go to her — but, oh my dear, my dear, 
how can I stand it — yet I have said it. Go and keep 
your vows to her. She will make you a good wife.^’ 

<< <A good wife,’ ” groaned Zopyrus in mental 
agony. don’t want ‘a good wife.’ I want the 
woman whom I love heart and soul!” 

He rose and though weak and unsteady of step 
he advanced toward her with outstretched arms, but 
she evaded his touch. 

Think Zopyrus,” she entreated. ^^Can you not 
recall your advances of love to Eumetis? They were 
promises, and must not be broken!” 

He stood with head bent upon his breast and hands 
clenched till the nails pierced his palms. When he 
looked up his passion-distorted features were calm and 
his voice was steady. 

‘‘You are right. My first duty is the happiness 
of the pure girl who lost her sister through my neglect. 
And you Persephone,” his voice and features again 
showed deep agitation, “do not know that you lost a 
brother, not through my neglect, but by my intention. 
Your brother fell at Thermopylae pierced by my sword! 
The first time I ever saw you I knew that you were his 
sister.” 

“Phales!” cried the poor girl, raising tear-dimmed 
eyes to heaven, “my twin brother! Why did your 
spirit not warn me that this man who dared think of 
me in love was your murderer! ’ ’ 

“Not murderer,” cried Zopyrus in deep anguish. 
“Do not say that! I did it in the heat of battle and in 

[199] 


1 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 

self-defense. I am no murderer and my conscience does 
not reproach me for what happened at Thermopylae. 
Listen — Persephone!^’ But he stood in the garden 
alone. 


[200] 


CHAPTEE XXVII. 

The Allied Fleet Sails. 

^^And still from morn till eve IVe scanned 
That weary sea from strand to strand, 

To mark his sail against the spray. 

In vain! In vain! The morning ray 
Shows not his bark ^mid all the seas/’ 

Thomas Davidson. 

T he opportunity for meetings between Cimon and 
Ladice had been very rare since the former 
wished as far as possible to avoid meeting 
Themistocles. The young man had conscientiously en¬ 
deavored to rectify the harm that he had done against 
the older man, but the populace preferred to believe the 
evil charge which was still vigorously promoted by 
Leobotes and other newly-won conspirators. 

One afternoon Cimon walked briskly into the curio 
shop of Aphobus. The little merchant was dusting 
with loving care, delicate vases in ivory and bronze of 
intricate designs. « 

‘‘This vase,’^ he said, picking up a small urn in 
terra-cotta with figures and designs painted in black, 
“has depicted upon it in minutest detail the story of 
the siege of Troy. Here we see Paris presenting 
Aphrodite with the apple. There he is carrying away 
the beautiful Helen. And here,’^ he added delightedly, 
“is the wooden horse of Ulysses. How very— 

[ 201 ] 


PERSEPHONE OP ELEUSIS 


did not come here to discuss the Trojan war/^ 
said Cimon abruptly. ‘‘I came to find out if there is 
any truth to the rumor that Themistocles has dis¬ 
appeared.^’ 

Before Aphobus could reply, the entrance to the 
shop was darkened by another figure. Both men upon 
looking up perceived it to be Lysimachus, son of Aris¬ 
tides. 

‘‘Have you heard the news?” he cried, and upon 
receiving negative responses, continued. “Themis¬ 
tocles has left Greece and it is believed that he has gone 
to Persia!” 

Cimon could venture no response but he listened 
dully to the details as related by the son of Themis¬ 
tocles’ former rival. But one question kept throbbing 
in his brain: “Will she marry me now that Themis¬ 
tocles has gone?” 

He realized presently that Lysimachus was ad¬ 
dressing him personally. “I hear that the allied fleet 
leaves tomorrow on its first expedition since the forma¬ 
tion of the Delian Confederacy, with you as its com¬ 
mander in which capacity you succeed my father.” 

“Yes we set sail on the morrow for Thrace to free 
from Persian rule the town of Eion on the river 
Strymon. ’ ’ 

Aphobus gazed with approbation at the manly 
form of Cimon. 

“I have known you since you were a little boy,” 
he said, “and I am proud to see you the first man in 
Athens. This expedition is a noble enterprise, but 
take care that while you are gone others right here in 
the city do not arise to seek your position. I have in 

[202] 


THE ALLIED FLEET SAILS 


mind a certain youth named Pericles. To be sure he 
is not the soldier that you are, but he is a patron of 
the arts and is interested in beautifying Athens, as 
very little of that has been done since the war. 

do not fear Pericles,’’ answered Cimon. 
‘^Athens is more interested at present in the results of 
the recent formation of the Delian League which per¬ 
tain more directly to our colonies. After these troubles 
are settled there will be time for the future rebuilding 
of the city.” 

Cimon took his leave of Aphobus and Lysimachus 
and had gone but a few steps when he met Leobotes. 
He wished to hurry on after a short nod of greeting, 
but Leobotes stopped him with the words: ‘^Congratu¬ 
lations, Cimon, Themistocles has fled and now there is 
none before you in Athens.” 

“In my opinion Themistocles is fortunate to be 
away from the immediate influence of the intrigues of 
certain so-called ‘loyal citizens.’ The fate of Ephialtes 
should prove a warning to such,” with which words 
he walked away from Leobotes who was too much 
astonished to reply. 

At last he had opportunity to think! So the fiery 
statesman, Themistocles, was gone, and he, Cimon, had 
been instrumental in bringing this about! Well he 
knew that he had done his utmost to prevent this to¬ 
ward the last. He had humbled himself that The¬ 
mistocles might not be thought guilty of treason, and 
all this was for the purpose of obtaining the girl he 
loved. He realized that whether by force of will or 
unconsciously he was drawing nearer and nearer to the 
home of Themistocles. He paused before the entrance, 

[203] 


PEESEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


ascended the steps and lifted the bronze knocker. 
There was no response, so he gently pushed open the 
door and entered. All was still. He proceeded 
cautiously to the solarium and found it empty, but from 
this room the faint sound of voices came to his listening 
ear. They proceeded from the garden, so thither he 
he betook himself. From the top of a short flight of 
stone steps which led to the garden, he surveyed the 
abundance of plants and shrubbery which he thought 
surpassed even those in the garden of Pasicles. He 
caught sight of two female figures seated upon a bench 
at the farther end of the garden. They were Ladice 
and Asia, the youngest daughter of Themistocles. The 
girls seemed to be indulging in mutual consolation. 

A vague uneasiness that forboded no good hovered 
about Cimon as he approached with the words: ‘‘Do I 
intrude 1 ^ ’ 

Ladice shook her head while Asia arose, hastily 
excused herself and entered the house. 

Cimon took the place that Asia had occupied and 
said gently: “Ladice, you can not believe how I regret 
what has happened. Believe that I did all within my 
power to prevent this ever since our meeting in the 
shadow of the Acropolis. I have come to take you with 
me, Ladice. I sail in the morning for Thrace.’’ 

“And you will go alone,” she replied drawing 
away from him. “Do you think for one moment that 
I will be the wife of the man who helped to cause the 
ruin of one whose home has sheltered me for many 
months? You failed in accomplishing your part of the 
agreement; I do not have to abide by mine!” 

[204] 


THE ALLIED FLEET SAILS 


Cimon’s face grew pale and his jaw acquired the 
peculiar set appearance of indomitability. 

‘‘The trouble with me,^’ he cried, “is that I have 
been too gentle, too lenient with you. My patience is 
exhausted and I am going to take you by force. 

He caught her and held her close, though she 
struggled to free herself from his almost brutal kisses. 

“I am going to take you as the men of the moun¬ 
tain countries take their wives,’’ he whispered fiercely, 
and she felt his hot breath upon her cheek. 

Frantically she struggled to gain her freedom, 
succeeding at times in striking sharp blows upon his 
face, but still he held her in a vise-like grip. Her des¬ 
perate struggles merely strengthened his determina¬ 
tion to conquer her, but when she realized the impotence 
of her resistance, she resorted to the use of the most 
effective weapon a woman can employ. In scathing 
tones she reminded him of the dissipations of his youth, 
of the disgrace of his father and ended with a direct 
accusation of the ostracism of Themistocles, thus deny¬ 
ing any belief in the assurances with which he had 
opened conversation with her upon entering the garden. 
Suddenly his hold relaxed. He pushed her from him 
and arose from the bench and there was a cold glint in 
the eyes that a moment before had burned with the 
light of desire. 

“Very well,” he said, and his tones were clearly 
cut and even, “the fair Agariste to whom my attentions 
are not unwelcome will accompany me to Thrace. ’ ’ 

He turned and left her, a pitiful drooping figure. 
Her posture remained the same for some moments 
after he had gone, and so preoccupied was she that she 

[ 205 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


did not hear Asia re-enter the garden and seat herself 
beside her. 

poor dear girl, that man is a brute,’’ re¬ 
marked Asia indignantly. ^^At any rate you can re¬ 
joice that he will molest you no more. I could not help 
hearing some of the things he said, and I hope he and 
his Agariste will meet no delays in getting away from 
Athens. Why do you not laugh at your good fortune, 
foolish girl? One would think from your crestfallen 
appearance that you loved the man! ’ ’ 

Ladice looked up and smiled faintly through her 
tears as she said, ‘‘Asia, I believe I do!” 

“You do love him! that beast that makes three¬ 
headed Cerberus look like a lamb!” cried Asia. 
“Ladice, you must be crazy! Grief over my poor 
father and the excitement of the past hour have un¬ 
balanced your mind. Come let me get you to bed, 
though there is yet another hour before set of sun.” 

“No Asia, I could not rest,” said the grief-stricken 
girl. “Please leave me. The garden is so beautiful 
and I wish to be alone with my thoughts. ’ ’ 

Asia left her reluctantly making her promise to 
retire early. 

Once more alone Ladice marvelled at the change 
that had come over her. From a cold, inditferent girl 
she had changed into a passionate, loving woman. The 
love must have come when she lay helpless in his arms, 
she reasoned, but it was not a vital thing till he spoke 
the words that stung her pride. How ditferent was this 
love from that which she had felt for the Persian, 
Masistius! That had been like a clear and steady light; 
this was a fire that leaped wildly while it consumed. 

[206] 


THE ALLIED FLEET SAILS 


At times she smiled at the memory of his kisses, then 
clenched her hands as she thought of the unknown 
Agariste. 

Darkness fell but she took no food, and worn out 
with weeping she dropped into a dreamless sleep. She 
awoke with a sense of depression. It was dawn and 
birds were twittering in their nests about her. It was 
apparent from the silence that the household was still 
wrapped in slumber. Gathering her shawl more closely 
about her she made her way cautiously through the 
house to the street. Along narrow lanes she threaded 
her way with unnatural rapidity. She ran between 
mud-colored walls that rose on either side, punctuated 
with doors out of which stared disheveled women. Piles 
of rotting garbage lay in her path and she was forced 
to dodge now this way, now that, to avoid the slinking 
forms of dogs that were seeking food among the piles 
of refuse. As she neared the vicinity of the harbor she 
met men and women who looked at her curiously. Then 
she realized what an aspect she presented; wild-eyed 
and with unkempt hair, but she cared naught for her 
appearance. She was obsessed with one idea; to pre¬ 
sent herself a willing companion to Cimon on his 
journey. 

On the quay she approached a woman, apparently 
of the upper class, who with many others was gazing 
steadfastly out at sea, with the words, ‘‘When does the 
fleet said for Thrace I 

For answer the woman pointed to the distant 
horizon where a few indistinct blots were barely dis¬ 
cernible. 


[207] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


sailed before sunrise,said the woman. 
came to see it otf because the great commander Cimon 
honored our family by taking my daughter Agariste 
with him as his bride. ’ ^ 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 
The Hand of Fate. 


^‘Before he mounts the hill, I know 
He cometh quickh’’; from below 
Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow 
Before him, striking on my brow.^^ 

Tennyson. 

D ays lengthened into weeks, and weeks into 
months. The fate of Corinna had lost none of 
its horror, but time had mollified the poignancy 
of the tragedy. Zopyrus still served as secretary to 
Pasicles and in his spare moments he wrote a series of 
essays entitled, ^‘Memoirs of the Persian Court, 
which he intended to present to the great Aeschylus as 
an aid to that poet in his poem the ^^Persae’^ upon which 
he was working. 

Considering himself to be unworthy because of 
his secret passion for the daughter of Aeschylus, he 
had for some weeks delayed speaking to Euemetis upon 
the subject of marriage, but one bright afternoon in 
March when the bird-winds blew across Attica from 
the Mediterranean, he asked her to join him in a stroll 
to the Acropolis. She gladly consented, and together 
they sauntered along the winding street westward to¬ 
ward the hill which rose in majesty before them, the 
pride of every loyal Athenian. 

[209] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


^‘Let us rest on yonder moss-covered ledge/’ sug¬ 
gested Eumetis as they neared the eastern end of the 
Acropolis. Later we can ascend.” 

‘‘No, no,” exclaimed Zopyrus hastily, recognizing 
the very place where he had seen Corinna and the base 
creature who had accompanied her. “Let us to 
the Theatre of Dionysus where we sat together and 
witnessed ‘ The Capture of Miletus. ’ It was there you 
first — ’ ’ but he could not conclude the sentence and 
walked along by Eumetis ’ side, his eyes downcast with 
shame that his tongue had faltered just at the moment 
when he desired to bring up the subject of their 
betrothal. 

They entered the eastern gate of the theatre and 
before them rose the stone seats, tier upon tier, dazzling 
white in the heat of the sun. They were impressed by 
the awful silence which here reigned supreme. What 
a vast difference between the theatre now and as it 
was on that day when thousands of spectators had 
thronged its gates and had sat in gala attire upon its 
benches! Then it had surged with human life; now 
the only living things visible were occasional lizards 
darting in and out of crevices. 

Zopyrus and Eumetis without a word, but with a 
mutual impulse, sought the section of seats at the head 
of which stood the statue of Aphrodite. For some 
moments they sat in silence with eyes fixed upon the 
stage as if before them they saw again enacted the 
great play of Phrynichus. But her hand did not touch 
his arm as upon that former occasion. There existed 
an inexplicable estrangement, and Zopyrus as he 
noticed her pensive mood revealed in her pale features, 

[210] 


THE HAND OF FATE 


was smitten with remorse that he had neglected and 
undoubtedly wounded her. 

^‘Eumetis/^ he said softly, ‘‘do not think that I 
have been willfully neglectful of you. Much has oc- 
cured to turn our minds from our — our — happiness. 
Will you now once again set the date for our wedding?’’ 

There was no response from Eumetis. He seized 
her hands which lay passively folded in her lap. They 
were cold. Her attitude was listless. 

“^peak, Eumetis,” the youth implored with grow¬ 
ing alarm. “Have I offended you?” 

At his words of entreaty the girl turned her face 
toward him and smiled — but not as a maiden would 
smile at her lover, but as a mother would gaze upon a 
beloved but willful son. 

“You have not offended me, Zopyrus, and I sin¬ 
cerely hope that what I am about to say will not hurt 
you. Do you believe, my friend, that I honor you most 
highly?” 

He nodded affirmatively and she continued, her 
thoughtful, sincere eyes resting upon him contem¬ 
platively; “Then I will tell you why I have seemed 
strange. I love Polygnotus who returns my affection, 
and but for the fear of wounding you, a friend whom 
he holds most dear, would wed me now at any time. ’ ’ 

The stage, the theatre, the Acropolis, and even 
the fleecy clouds floating dreamily above, seemed to 
whirl about in a colorless eddy. Only the eyes of 
Eumetis remained stationary. At one moment they 
seemed to be accusing eyes, at another, reproachful, 
then pitying, but his last impression of them was that 
they portrayed peace and happiness. His conscience 

[ 211 ] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


would not permit him to play the heroically sacrificing 
lover, nor did he really experience any elation because 
of his freedom. He simply clasped her hand and mur¬ 
mured: understand.’’ She looked at him quickly 

with a questioning glance as they rose and turned their 
faces homeward. 

Before they reached the western limit of the 
Agora, the familiar figure of Polygnotus suddenly 
turned from a side street and came toward them. 
Zopyrus imagined that a fleeting expression of pain 
passed over the artist’s kindly face at sight of them. 

‘^Eumetis has something important to say to you,” 
said Zopyrus laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder 
as the three met. ‘Ht is only good news,” he added at 
the startled look of inquiry upon Polygnotus’ face. 

‘^Then I shall be glad to hear it, but will you not 
join us on our homeward way, Zopyrus?” asked the 
artist as Zopyrus turned to leave. 

‘‘Not for the-present,” Zopyrus replied evasively. 
Then moved by a sudden impulse he seized a hand of 
Polygnotus and of Eumetis in each of his. He desired 
to invoke the blessing of the gods upon this couple 
whom he loved so dearly, but so deeply was he affected 
that he was unable to speak, and turned his back in 
the direction of the theatre, scarcely realizing what he 
was doing. 

Before reaching the Acropolis he turned north¬ 
ward, pursuing as direct a course as possible along the 
winding, closely built streets, till at last the dwellings, 
became more interspersed with garden-plots, and 
finally between two spreading acacias he spied the mas¬ 
sive masonry of the Hipylon Gate. He turned back 

[ 212 ] 


THE HAND OP FATE 


for one last look at the Acropolis. There it stood in 
its solitary grandeur, its ruined temples resembling a 
circlet of irregular pearls. Although this was the fifth 
time that he had passed through the great gate and 
along the Sacred Way, never until now had he known 
that this road led to the girl he loved. Unmindful of 
the scorching rays of the sun which beat down upon 
him, he pressed on thinking only of the goal. When, 
however, he was overtaken by a farmer in a cart who 
was returning to his farm near Eleusis after leaving 
his produce at the Athenian market, he gladly accepted 
an offer to ride. 

The sun was approaching the horizon a little to the 
left of the travelers, and stretching into the distance 
were the fertile fields which the driver designated as 
his own. 

^‘Here is where I live, my friend, but I can drive 
you on to Eleusis if you wish,’’ said the farmer. 

‘‘I would prefer to walk from here on,” replied 
Zopyrus hastily, ‘^but I am truly grateful to you for 
driving me this far on my journey.” 

He bade the man a friendly farewell and with eyes 
alight with anticipation, set forth to cover the remain¬ 
ing two miles which lay between him and the abode of 
the girl he loved. 

In the garden that was divided from the Temple 
of Mysteries only by an ivy-covered wall, reclined 
Persephone upon a cushion covered seat by the foun¬ 
tain. She did not sleep, but lay fully conscious, with 
her hands upon her bosom as it rose and fell regularly 
with her breathing. Her whole frame was wrapped in 

[213] 



PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


languor. But her face was not as expressive of peace 
as her body, for an occasional frown puckered her 
smooth brow and she opened her eyes with a wistful 
expression only to close them again as if to shut out 
the reality of her loneliness. Between two cypress trees 
the white roof of the temple showed the first rosy 
tinge that followed the passing of Phoebus Apollo— 
Persephone rose to a sitting posture; a figure in white 
had passed the gate and was coming toward her along 
the flower-bordered path. With a cry she sprang from 
her bench and ran into the outstretched arms of her 
lover. 

‘AVhat of EumetisP^ she asked, attempting to 
draw away from the arms that encircled her. 

^‘Eumetis has found happiness in the love of 
Polygnotus. It was inevitable that the artist could be 
such a frequent visitor at the home of Pasicles and not 
grow to love the sincere, unselfish, pure daughter who 
lives there. Oh — Persephone, have I your forgiveness 
for the death of your brother?’^ asked the young man 
with growing agitation. 

The maiden ^s face lit up with a divine radiance as 
she said: ‘‘My brother Phales clad as I last saw him 
with helmet, cuirass and greaves, and carrying his 
sword, quiver and shield, appeared to me in a dream 
and told me not to hold you guilty of his death. He 
praised you highly, Zopyrus — and then he said one 
more thing. ^ ’ 

“And what was that?’’ questioned her lover 
eagerly. 

“He said, ‘There is but one God who controls and 

[214] 


THE HAND OF FATE 


directs the universe. ^ That is all he said. I would have 
asked him more, but he vanished. ^ ^ 

‘ ‘ Then the prayer to God saved Greece at Salamis, 
and incessant prayers to the one God have given me 
you, Persephone!^’ 

She raised her lips to his as they stood together 
before the statue of Ceres, whose maternal countenance 
seemed to smile down benignly upon them despite their 
words concerning the Deity. 

There was one other witness to that kiss; a man 
of middle-age with thick waving hair and beard of 
chestnut brown, who came forth from the house and, 
unobserved, stood with arms outstretched toward the 
two as if pronouncing a benediction. 


[215] 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Aftee Twenty Yeaes. 


‘‘How terrible is time! his solemn years, 

The tombs of all our hopes and all our fears, 

In silent horror roll! the gorgeous throne. 

The pillared arch, the monumental stone, 

Melt in swift ruin; and of mighty climes, 

Where Fame told tales of virtues and of crimes, 
Where Wisdom taught, and Valor woke to strife. 
And Art’s creations breathed their mimic life. 

And the young poet when the stars shone high 
Drank the deep rapture of the quiet sky, 

Naught now remains but Nature’s placid scene, 
Heaven’s deathless blue and earth’s eternal green.” 

Winthrop Mackworth Prsed. 


T O THEMISTOCLES in Magnesia, greetings 
from Zopyrus at Gela in Sicily:— 

After a silence of many years I write yon 
again of affairs of state and even of many personal 
things which I know will be of interest to you. I want 
to assure you, my friend that I have never doubted 
your true loyalty to Athens, and I write you freely 
knowing that Greece is dearer to you than Persia. Your 
memory is and always will be in the hearts of the 
majority, for who can forget the glories of Salamis and 
the hero to whom we owe that victory! 

Would that you could once more behold Athens— 
our Athens—and yet not as she was in the years that 

[216] 


AFTER TWENTY YEARS 


you, my dear friend, walked her streets, stood in her 
buzzing mart, or ascended her divine hill. The crystal¬ 
line air, the song of the nightingale in the olive groves, 
the shaggy peak of Hymettus, the blue of the bay, and 
the familiar rose-tinted rock of the Acropolis — these 
the Persian has been unable to destroy. 

Your once hated rival Aristides is dead. I know 
that though bitter enmity once tilled your heart, you 
will regret to hear that he died so poor that he was 
buried at the public expense. After his death Cimon 
became undisputed leader, and greatly has Athens been 
benetitted by the rule of this brilliant man whom we 
knew well as a youth. But alas, for the brevity of 
popular favor! But a few years ago he was ostracized 
by the most talked of man in all Athens today, Pericles, 
son of Xanthippus. On the eve of the battle of Tan- 
agra, Cimon left his place of banishment and fought 
bravely with the Athenians against the Spartans. This 
so pleased Pericles that he proposed a measure re¬ 
calling Cimon from exile and it was passed by the 
assembly. Cimon has succeeded in putting down many 
revolts, and you know of his great victory over the Per¬ 
sians in Asia. Prom the proceeds from the spoils of 
this battle he had planned to build a temple to Athena, 
but this work is being carried on by Pericles. It is 
plain that Cimon, however sincerely he had the welfare 
of his city at heart, was too fond of personal praise 
and worship. He failed in his attempt to unite Athens 
and Sparta. Pericles stands for the independence of 
Athens and for pure democracy. 

During the Thasian Revolt about ten years ago, 
Mimnermus distinguished himself by bravery, but he 

[217] 


PERSEPHONE OF ELEUSIS 


confided to us that he did not relish the task of over¬ 
seeing the Thacians tear down their walls at the com¬ 
mand of the Athenians, for his brother-in-law, Polygno- 
tus, was a native of Thasos. Mimnermus is now at 
Aegina helping to suppress a similar revolt. 

And now I will tell you of Polygnotus. He and 
other artists adorned the interior of the Painted Porch 
with mural pictures of great beauty representing 
scenes from the myths and from recent history. 
Polygnotus married Eumetis, the daughter of Pasicles, 
and to this union were born three daughters, Corinna, 
Cleodice and Neobule. Pasicles resides with his daugh¬ 
ter and her husband, but his wife, Cleodice, whose 
health failed rapidly after the death of her daughter, 
Corinna, died within a few years after that tragic event. 

I know it will interest you to hear of Ladice and 
Lysimachus, both of whom spoke of you affectionately 
whenever we met while in Athens. Their son, Aris¬ 
tides, in whom they feel the usual pride common to par¬ 
ents of an only child, gives promise of exceptional 
ability along the lines of his grandfather, and if I may 
say so, his foster-grandparent. 

Yesterday I stood at a newly made grave on the 
banks of a river which pours its waters into the African 
Sea. In the distance to the north stretched the wheat¬ 
bearing land of Gela. Before I could give my thoughts 
wholly to the honored dead, I gazed with pride and 
happiness upon the family with which I have been 
blessed. My eldest son Phales, stood by my side, stal¬ 
wart of body and thoughtful of mind, not unlike his 
grandfather, Aeschylus. Persephone, our eldest daugh¬ 
ter is very like her mother was at her age, so it is 

[218] 


AFTER TWENTY YEARS 


needless to mention here the pride I feel in her. My 
second son Masistins, at times reminds me of my 
father, Artaphernes, hnt the loving guidance of his 
mother has softened the severity that was his grand¬ 
father's. The youngest child, a daughter, Protomache, 
stood upon this occasion with tears in her usually 
laughing eyes. She clung tightly to the hand of her 
mother whose eyes rested lovingly upon each member 
of the little group in turn. 

Then in low tones and with head bent in a reverent 
attitude, Persephone my dear wife, read this epitaph 
which was engraved upon the tomb: 

^^This tomb the dust of Aeschylus doth hide — 
Euphorion’s son and fruitful Gela’s pride; 

How famed his valor Marathon may tell, 

And long-haired Medes, who knew it all too well.’’ 

As the last word trembled into a silence that 
seemed to permeate Nature all about us, a few lines 
that had been composed by Aeschylus on the subject 
of death, came to my mind, and I could not but repeat 
them upon this occasion; 

Smitten by Him, from towering hopes degraded. 

Mortals lie low and still; 

Tireless and effortless works forth its will 
The arm divine! 

God from His holy seat, in calm of unarmed power, 
Brings forth the deed at its appointed hour!” 

The End. 


[219] 





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